


take all my vicious words (let the truth be understood)

by icerose92



Series: It's Never Easy [It's Like Trying To Spin The World The Other Way] [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icerose92/pseuds/icerose92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana Lopez is failing dance, the one class that could keep her from graduating. Brittany Pierce, the nerd Santana constantly bullies, is – apparently – the school's star dancer. Through dance tutoring, they learn to better themselves and each other. AU Nerd!Brittany/Cheerio!Santana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and I am not profiting in anyway.
> 
> I've gotten a lot of messages since writing _It's Never Easy_ (aka highschool!heya) saying that people thought that it was better suited as Brittana. So, I've taken some time, and I've converted it to non-RPF, though the RPF is still up if you want to read that. I've corrected a lot of mistakes that I overlooked before, and I've changed the title and the summary. It is coupled in a series with the original to show that they are related, but they can obviously be read separately. This chapter is short, but they do get much longer.
> 
> The title comes from the song _Courage Is_ by The Strange Familiar.
> 
>  **Overall Warnings** : Pucktana bearding, gay!Puck, early Fabevans, bitch!Quinn, language, bullying, threats, sex, violence, mentions of death, homophobia, a very, very small mention of attempted rape (the chapter for this will also have a warning at the beginning so that it won't sneak up on you), a very short Blaine mention somewhere in this mess, and finding the strength to forgive and love your bully. If any of these things make you uncomfortable, please read no further.

Santana smacked her lips once, staring at her reflection in the mirror attached to the inside of her locker door. She put her lip gloss away and fluffed her ponytail. Behind her, Quinn giggled cruelly. Santana glanced at the other girl in the mirror before her eyes followed Quinn's around the rectangular door. She smirked. "Watch this," she threw to Quinn cockily.

Struggling under the weight of her school books, the blonde coming towards them wasn't very invested in her surroundings. Santana stuck her leg out, ankle caught ankle, and Santana's prey went sprawling.

Brittany winced as her front hit the floor. She looked around at her scattered books, rolled to sit on her butt, and pushed her glasses up her nose. She didn't need to look to see who had tripped her, but the laughter that reached her ears from everyone around her didn't hurt nearly as bad as the vicious look that Santana was giving her.

For as long as she could remember, Santana had bullied her every single day at school. Brittany couldn't remember a time when Santana wasn't popular and she wasn't her victim. Her earliest memory of Santana was of the other girl pushing her off of the swing set when they were eight. Santana was the reason that Brittany was afraid to come to school. Santana was the reason that Brittany refused to attend after school functions.

Santana smirked down at her and slammed her locker door shut. She leaned down closer to Brittany, noting that her blonde hair was tinged a faint blue, evidence of an earlier slushy. "Watch where you're going, nerd," she whispered dangerously. Brittany averted her teary gaze to the floor as Santana and Quinn stepped over her fallen form to meet up with Puck and Sam at the end of the hallway. The laughter died down, but no one moved to help Brittany.

Brittany blinked back her tears. She made to get up, but a hand thrust in front of her face made her stop. Brittany's eyes followed the hand, up an arm, and were met with Rachel's sympathetic eyes. Brittany stared at her blankly before slowly taking Rachel's tiny hand and allowing the smaller girl to help her to her feet. She rubbed at her wrist, which had taken the brunt of her fall, and glanced at her things, which were quickly being gathered by Kurt. "You don't have to do this, guys," Brittany muttered, clearly embarrassed despite being accustomed to this kind of treatment.

Rachel flashed a bright smile, her hand latching tightly to Brittany's arm. "Oh, we know."

Kurt rounded her and dropped her books into her waiting arms. "We too know the pain of relentless teasing at the hands of our 'betters'," he reminded her, forming air quotes in the appropriate places. "But, chin up." He exhaled and plastered on a dazzling smile. "Only a few more months until graduation." He tightened his grip on the strap of his messenger bag. "Then you'll be at Harvard or MIT, far away from this rinky-dink town, and them-" He gestured to Puck, Santana, Quinn, and Sam behind her. When she glanced back, all that she could see was Puck and Santana all over each other. "Well, at best they'll be working at the Lima Bean asking if you want extra whipped cream on your hot chocolate."

Brittany smiled a bit at his attempt to cheer her up. She nodded to Rachel, who finally decided to let go of her arm, and nudged her glasses up her nose again.

Only a few more months. She could get through just a few more months.

\-----

" _Watch_ the hands," Santana muttered, pulling Puck's hand from her backside. "And don't leave a fucking mark, Puck!" His lips stopped their assault on Santana's neck and he pulled away to look around.

"I thought this is what you wanted," he whispered hurriedly.

"I wanted a beard," Santana whispered back. " _Not_ a reputation as a whore." Puck reached for her again, but she swatted him away. "Or a handsy moron!"

"The public display kind of goes along with the bearding," Puck said.

Santana crossed her arms. "That doesn't mean that you can get a case of happy hands or mark me as yours."

Puck sighed irritably and pulled away from her. He adjusted his letterman jacket proudly and stalked away. Santana watched him disappear into the crowd before turning her gaze to Quinn and Sam. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it when she saw them firmly attached by the lips. She hefted her fallen bag over her shoulder and headed for class – the terrified looks on Hummelberry's faces as she passed weren't nearly as gratifying as they should have been, but she figured they'd have to suffice.

When she and Puck had become each other's beards after years of being best friends there had been strict rules (no excessive touching, no marking), but recent speculation around school about Puck's sexuality had the quarterback scrambling to cover his oh-so-very-gay tracks. Sure, Santana had had her moments of panic, but damn at least she stuck to their rules.

Santana prided herself in being popular. At the same time, she'd worked very hard to keep a clean sexual bill; she wasn't a whore, and she made damn sure people knew that.

Santana walked briskly into her history class. She stopped briefly at Brittany's desk and, without looking at the other girl, knocked her notebook to the ground. She hooked her foot in the strap of Brittany's bag and kicked, sending it sliding across the floor. "Oops," she said quietly with a smirk.

Santana continued to her seat and pulled out her nail file, deliberately avoiding Brittany's gaze as the dejected blonde collected her bag. Brittany was her biggest weakness, her reason for needing Puck.

She hated it. Santana had – begrudgingly – accepted her feelings for the nerdy girl years ago, but had only told Puck (and only because he had come to her in the middle of the night in tears over his feelings for a certain male diva), and had absolutely no intentions of acting on them. In a couple of months, after graduation, she'd never have to lay eyes on stupid Brittany S. Pierce again.

Santana looked over just in time to see a ball of paper smack against the side of Brittany's head, making her fold into herself even more as the jock who'd thrown the ball high-fived his friend.

Santana rolled her eyes at them as the teacher entered and immediately started on Lincoln's assassination.

Only a few more months, she told herself. A few more months and she'd be free of the spell Brittany had her under.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: bullying.

Santana wished that, just once, her mother would allow her alarm clock to do its intended task. Waking up at 5:23 a.m. to her mother rampaging about oversleeping and extraneous calories was never Santana's ideal way to start the day, yet it always happened.

"Rise and shine, pumpkin," her mom called from her open bedroom door, sounding overly forced with the attempted sentiment. "Time for our early morning workout, chop chop!"

Santana pulled her head from under her pillow and groaned when she realized that it was still very much dark outside. " _Pumpkin_?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. "Mom, I know that your therapist told you to try harder and all that, but please just…stop."

Maribel Lopez, already dressed in her workout gear, pursed her lips and strode away. "Hurry up, Santana. We're already behind schedule."

Santana threw herself backwards and closed her eyes, praying for one more hour of sleep.

\-----

After her mother's intense workout, Santana didn't have time to eat breakfast - not that her resident drill sergeant would allow her anything fulfilling - or take a shower before Puck was in her driveway laying on the horn.

"Well, it's safe to say that the horn blows," Santana said testily as she threw her things into the back of his jeep. "Does the driver?"

"Hey!" Puck said defensively. "Shut the hell up, Lopez!" He threw the jeep into drive and peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing. He didn't know why Santana was upset, but she didn't have to rag on his sexuality. "We're late, thanks. And for the record, you reek."

"You want to be on time for once?" Santana asked. "You should talk to Queen Lopez." Santana flipped the visor down forcefully to expose the mirror and pulled her eyeliner from her makeup bag. "I didn't have time to eat breakfast or shower this morning, thanks to her stupid workout schedule."

"Your mom is crazy, you realize that?" Puck fished in his pocket and produced a five dollar bill. "Breakfast on me," he said, offering the money to Santana. He really did feel sorry for his best friend. Really, all he had to deal with were his feelings for Kurt. Santana had to deal with her feelings for Brittany _and_ her mother. Ricardo Lopez had left her when Santana was eleven, and Maribel, in a fit of grief, had convinced herself that it was because she didn't have the body that she used to. Since, she'd dedicated her days to trying to regain her youth and her nights to barhopping. Santana's siblings, Manny and Carmen, had put up with their mom's insane behavior for four long years. Finally, they had both been driven to move in with their father. Puck couldn't understand why Santana hadn't done the same. If you asked him, Santana's mom was a psycho.

Santana scoffed as she applied a thin coat of lip gloss. "I am _not_ eating school food." She closed her make up bag and reached into the back to put it in her backpack. "And besides, I have my own money."

Puck scowled, pocketed his money, and grumbled, "You could at least say 'thank you'."

"Well, that would imply that I'm grateful," Santana snapped.

While Puck knew that her callousness should have hurt, years of being insulted by a hardened Santana Lopez had taught him to smirk and take it in stride. He knew that she cared; she just didn't know how to show it. "You're welcome."

Puck pulled into his usual parking space. By the time he had checked to ensure that his school-issued parking permit was hanging from the rearview mirror and shut off his jeep, Santana was already walking through the school doors.

Puck shook his head as he watched her cheerleading skirt sway; even it seemed angry.

He almost felt sorry for Brittany.

\-----

Santana slowed her pace, timing her assault. This is what she did. When she was upset, she took it out on the one person she knew would take it. Long fingers worked the dial on a red locker. When the door was open, Santana strutted by and slammed it shut, narrowly missing Brittany's fingers, simultaneously knocking the books from her hands.

Santana spared neither a glance nor a word as she walked away.

\-----

It wasn't that Santana hated dancing. On the contrary, one of the only things that made Santana happy anymore was dancing. Santana just hated dance class.

Everything about her second period dance class made Santana cringe. She hated the girls, she hated the guys, and she hated being told how and when to dance. But Santana thought that mostly, she hated her dance teacher, Ms. Pillsbury. 

Ms. Pillsbury was entirely too quiet for Santana's liking. The way Santana saw it, teachers, from the get go, should establish a level of respect amongst their students, like Ms. Holliday, Santana's trig teacher, or Coach Sylvester, her cheerleading coach. Ms. Pillsbury was the biggest pushover of them all. Her students didn't respect her, and therefore most of them didn't listen to her.

With the loss of respect came the loss of willingness to dance for the woman with freakishly large eyes; Santana was just as content to stand and inspect her nails as everyone else twirled around her. She was broken out of her oblivious stupor only when Kurt bumped into her, shoulders and hips colliding roughly and sending her to the floor in a crumpled heap. Santana brushed her hair out of her face and looked up, outraged (although the terrified look on Kurt's face amused her greatly), and shrieked, "Watch where you're going _freak_!" In an instant, Ms. Pillsbury was standing over her, looking almost as scared as Kurt. "Slow your roll, Bambi," Santana said before the teacher could begin to stutter about treating others with respect. She lifted herself off of the floor and headed for the locker room, her ego only growing as her classmates parted like the Red Sea for her.

"I want to see you in my office after class, Santana," Ms. Pillsbury threw after her. 

Santana rolled her eyes and, without missing a beat, held her hand up and gave an agitated thumbs up.

\-----

Santana gaped at her teacher. "Failing?" She asked incredulously. "How can I be failing? I've never failed a class in my life, how is that the one class I am failing is fucking _dance_?!" She crossed her arms.

Ms. Pillsbury winced at the curse, but only heaved a heavy sigh and closed her grade book. "Santana," she began. "Dance class is about more than dressing in your workout clothes. Your dance grade is a participation grade. You constantly get zeros because you don't participate, you just stand around and watch everyone else."

"I thought all I had to do was show up," Santana said.

Ms. Pillsbury shook her head. Under her intense, wide-eyed gaze, Santana suddenly felt really, really dumb. "Um, no…Santana, you have to actually _do_ something to pass. And, I'm sorry to say this…you do realize that you need my class to graduate, right? It's the required art elective that you chose." Santana's eyes grew wide. "And you are aware that you must maintain a C minus average to be an athlete?"

Santana had known that, of course, but had never had any reason to worry about it. "Wait, wait, wait. Am I going to be kicked off of the Cheerios?" Santana asked dejectedly. Ms. Pillsbury nodded. Santana's shoulders slumped. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Santana knew that she should have known all of this; it was a matter of pure common sense. She was sure that Ms. Pillsbury had gone over the class requirements at the beginning of the semester. She just hadn't cared enough to listen. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

Ms. Pillsbury smiled kindly at her. "You're a very bright young lady." Santana rolled her eyes. "And I know that dance is not everyone's cup of tea, so I try my best to be lenient. You need to start participating during class. And, you'll need to get a B or higher on your final exam. But to remain a cheerleader, the most important thing right now is for you to start participating."

Santana suddenly found it hard to breathe. "How am I supposed to get a B on my final? Don't we have to choreograph our own dance for that?" Ms. Pillsbury nodded. Santana huffed. Her future was depending on the class that she despised the most. "No offense…but…I kind of hate your class."

Santana, expecting a scowl and a rant to match, was surprised when Ms. Pillsbury's smile never faltered. If her comment had stung in any way, Ms. Pillsbury wasn't showing it. "That's perfectly okay, Santana," she assured. "There's no rule saying that you have to like every class that you were ever enrolled in. But you know what? You _do_ have to pass them."

"But how?" Santana asked desperately. "I can dance, I can! I just…can't dance when someone tells me to dance." She rested her head on her fist miserably.

"I've arranged for you to have a tutor, if you're okay with that," Ms. Pillsbury said, rising from her chair.

"A tutor?" Santana asked, skeptical. "There's tutoring for dance?"

Ms. Pillsbury backpedaled, waving her hands a bit frantically, as though she were afraid she would lose Santana on this deal. "Maybe tutor is the wrong word. You're a cheerleader, obviously you would _know_ how to dance," she hurried to explain. "Maybe… _motivator_ is a better word? Someone to make you like dancing. Someone to…make it enjoyable for you."

Santana sighed. She supposed a little bit of motivation couldn't hurt. "Fine," she huffed.

Ms. Pillsbury smiled widely and jumped from her seat. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Santana sat back in the hard plastic chair as the door clicked shut. This sucked royally. She hated that she was going to be booted from the Cheerios. It wasn't so much _cheerleading_ that Santana loved, but the reprieve that it gave her from her mother. Cheerleading got her out of the house every day after school until 6:30 (sometimes until 7, if it was an off-day for everyone), every Saturday from noon to five, and on game days Santana was happy to report that she didn't get home until 11:30, where she was promptly allowed to fall into bed, no questions asked.

And Santana had an entire rant, a novel-length essay really, about college and its many benefits, but the simplified version was that going to college would not only get her out of Lima and away from her mother, but also prove to her that she could be something. Something great.

Even if, god forbid, she became a teacher of some sort (Santana shuddered at the thought), at least she'd be making a difference.

The door opened behind her and she turned to see who Ms. Pillsbury had rounded up to be her tutor. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in horror. "Oh, no," she mumbled to herself as she shot up from her chair.

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said, tugging a petrified blonde further into the room. "I'm sure you and Brittany know each other."

"We've met," Santana said angrily. Brittany looked like she could cry at any minute; Santana almost felt bad. "Why her?" She found herself asking. She hadn't meant for the words to slip out, but now they were out there and Santana really, really wanted an answer.

Ms. Pillsbury opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it tightly. Normally Santana would have enjoyed Bambi's speechlessness, but right now she needed Ms. Pillsbury to say something, anything. "Well, um…Brittany is one of my best students. She's taken every dance class this school has to offer and was even in Dance Company for a semester. I think it'd be pretty safe to say that she is the best dancer this school has ever had."

Brittany turned an awful shade of red and clutched her books tighter. "Ms. Pillsbury, if Santana's not comfortable…maybe you could get Mike-"

"No, no," Ms. Pillsbury said hurriedly, waving her hands again. She looked from Santana to Brittany and back again. "Mike is wonderful, truly wonderful. But – and please forgive me – while he's a wonderful dancer, I don't feel that he has what it would take to teach. To…to _motivate_." Ms. Pillsbury looked to Santana again. "His talents truly do pale in comparison to Brittany's."

Santana cocked an eyebrow and eyed the blonde skeptically. There was no way that the Queen of the Nerd Herd could dance. It wasn't possible. In any universe.

"No, really, it's perfectly alright," Brittany tried to assure Ms. Pillsbury. She sounded hurt, almost like she thought Santana would actually be okay with this idea, which, by the way, was the stupidest idea _ever_. "If Santana wants someone else, it's fine."

Santana narrowed her eyes and stared Brittany down. For the first time, Brittany met her gaze. If what Ms. Pillsbury said was true, what choice did Santana have? "I have to graduate," she said simply, to no one in particular.

Brittany opened her mouth to respond, but Ms. Pillsbury beat her. "If you allow Brittany to help you, you will do just that."

Santana set her jaw and looked at Brittany again. Brittany shrugged helplessly. "Fine," Santana breathed finally. She collected her bag and strode out the door, ignoring Ms. Pillsbury's praise and thanks.

Santana could not believe her incredibly crappy luck. Now, not only did her future depend on her least favorite class _ever_ , but it also rested in the hands of her least favorite _person_ ever. Santana hefted her bag further over her shoulder and turned to wait for Brittany to catch up. Details needed to be discussed and ground rules needed to be set.

After a couple of minutes, Brittany exited Ms. Pillsbury's office, looked left and right, clearly torn between approaching Santana and running away, and ultimately decided to walk Santana's way slowly. Santana pushed off of the wall that she had lent against. "Here's the deal," she said harshly. Brittany stood straight and stared at the floor. "I have cheerleading practice until six, so if you don't want to do this really late-"

Brittany looked up and held up a hand. "Whatever time you're free is fine. My schedule is…pretty flexible." She scribbled her address on a piece of paper and hesitantly handed it to Santana, giving away the one place that she had been safe from Santana's bullying. Santana snatched the paper from Brittany's grasp and crumpled it in her hand. Brittany swallowed hard under Santana's hard gaze. "So…yeah, whenever…" She pulled her books in tighter and walked away, careful to avoid any limbs that Santana could have tripped her with.

When Brittany had safely rounded the corner, Santana uncrumpled the piece of paper. She stared at Brittany's neat, loopy handwriting and sighed.

\-----

Kurt dropped his fork and Rachel nearly choked on her mouthful of water when Finn told them the news at lunch. Finn had been in gym class and had overheard most of Santana, Brittany, and the dance teacher's conversation on his way to the water fountain. He couldn't even begin to imagine how terrified Brittany must be.

Rachel spotted Brittany working her way through the crowd and waved her over. "We just heard the news," she whispered dramatically once Brittany was seated. "How awful!"

"Word gets around fast, I see." Brittany shoved her glasses up her nose angrily and shrugged. When Ms. Pillsbury had told her earlier in the day that she wanted Brittany to be a tutor, her former teacher hadn't dropped names. Once called out of class (and after she'd left the giggling and whispering behind), Brittany had gotten majorly anxious. Hundreds of questions and silent pleas had gone through her mind, but the most prominent, the most important, had been _please, please, please don't be Santana Lopez_. Now…well, she was just kind of angry. Brittany tucked her hair behind her ear. "Hopefully it won't be that bad…maybe time will fly?"

"Do you want us there?" Kurt asked. He put an arm around her shoulders. "We could come and supervise or something."

Brittany ignored Kurt and instead stared at Finn, noticing him for the first time. "You're on the football team," she said quietly, eyeing his letterman jacket. "Why are you here?"

Finn glanced to the table where Sam and Puck were sitting with Santana, Quinn, and few other athletes. He wrung his hands and looked down at the table. "I'm not like them. They said I'm…awkward," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm not popular…just good with a football."

"We met in Glee club," Rachel explained further. "He usually eats alone, but I invited him to join us."

Finn turned to Rachel and smiled. "Thanks again, Rach," he said, and Brittany cocked an eyebrow at his obvious crush on Rachel.

Brittany turned back to Kurt. "No," she said, addressing his earlier question. "I actually think that that would make everything worse."

\-----

Santana sat on one of the benches in the vacant locker room. She was nearly half an hour early, but she needed time to herself (something that she very rarely had the pleasure of receiving) and this was the only place she could attain that right now.

Having seen Santana's obvious distress, Quinn had offered to help her in Brittany's place; Santana might have taken her up on her offer had she not previously been an unfortunate witness to the disaster that is Quinn while dancing. Quinn tended to dance to her own rhythm, a messy, flailing whirlwind of limbs that made Santana terrified to go anywhere near her.

Santana sighed. The more she thought about her predicament, the more hopeless the whole thing seemed. Class was more about participation, though it seemed like the better a student performed, the more Ms. Pillsbury favored them. She had stressed the importance of doing your best and giving the class one hundred and ten percent. The class may have been all participation, but the exam would be all about skill and who had the most of it, which Santana thought was unfair, but whatever.

And really how could Brittany, the nerdiest nerd of all of the nerds teach her how to dance? Surely Brittany couldn't dance. It just couldn't be possible. There wasn't a graceful bone in the blonde's body, and Santana knew that for a fact (you learn these things when you trip the same person multiple times every day for years). If Brittany had truly been blessed with a dancer's grace, she would have figured out how to right herself and avoid Santana's feet altogether.

"Sandbags!" Startled, Santana jumped to her feet, surprised to find Coach Sylvester staring at her, megaphone pressed firmly to her lips. "You're here awfully early. I knew you loved the sport, but don’t you think this is overdoing it a bit?" Coach Sylvester set her megaphone on the chair by the door, giving Santana her undivided attention.

Santana stared at her shoes. The athletes weren't supposed to arrive too much earlier than their respective coaches. The principal had this weird fear that they would get the itch to cause trouble (if asked, Santana was supposed to deny knowing anything about Puck and a can of spray paint). She hadn't done anything and hadn't planned on doing anything wrong, but Santana was still ashamed at being caught here. "It's just been…a very bad day," she admitted and the coach nodded solemnly. "I needed a bit of time to myself."

Coach Sylvester gestured for Santana to sit and then took a deep breath. Santana's stomach dropped. "I'm glad that I caught you alone," Coach said. "I heard about what's happening with your dance grade. It's really unfortunate, and I wish you the best of luck in raising it, but-"

"I'm off the squad, aren't I?" Santana asked dejectedly; she'd thought that she would at least have a couple of days to get used to the idea of being off of the Cheerios. She hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

"As per Principal Figgins' request," Coach affirmed sadly. "If it were up to me, you would stay. I'm sorry Santana, but you know the district's athletic policy. Once you get that dance grade to a C, we'll discuss terms for letting you back on."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. There was no use fighting the rule, no use in mentioning that she was one of the best this school had ever had, no use in mentioning that the squad would be completely lost without her, because Coach Sylvester knew all of that. Her bad day had just turned into the worst day of her life, right behind the day that her dad had walked out.

Santana rummaged sadly in her duffle bag for her after-shower clothes (a t-shirt, jeans, and converse) and Coach Sylvester stepped outside to wait for Santana to bring her uniform.

Santana took her time changing, and right before leaving the locker room, she stopped at the door to take one last good look around. She'd spent every afternoon and every Saturday in this locker room for the past four years. It had felt more like her home than her house had, and to say that she was emotional was an understatement. 

Santana's undoing had been handing her uniform over, and she had to flee before Coach Sylvester could witness her complete breakdown.

\-----

Santana leaned against a row of lockers and called Puck on her cell phone. The footballers still had a while before practice began, so Puck offered to drive her to Brittany's. He may have been a major douche, but he was still her best friend and number one confidante.

When she was finished talking to Puck, Santana called her mom to let her know where she would be until later. As predicted, her mom was only concerned about her lost spot on the squad, so Santana ended up hanging up on her. It was Friday, so she figured she'd hear about it all weekend anyways.

When Puck pulled his car around front, Santana climb in. Puck immediately reached across the console and pulled Santana into a long, tight, comforting hug. As much as she loved their banter, she loved moments like these the most. Puck was like her twin brother, and even though it killed her to admit it, she wouldn't trade him for anything.

The ten minute ride to Brittany's was filled with Puck's mindless chatter, his desperate attempt to quell the nervous jitters that he knew Santana had. Santana tried to smile and laugh in all of the right places, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to listen to him. Her mind was too preoccupied with lay ahead of her.

For as long as she had known Brittany, Santana had teased her, and Brittany had always been the perfect victim: nerdy, mostly friendless, and unwilling to stand up for herself. And today it had been revealed that Brittany could _dance_? Santana was doubtful to say the least.

"It's wacko," Puck said, and Santana marveled at how well he could read her. "Brittany S. Pierce, straight A's, perfect attendance, extra quiet, barely any friends…hot-shot dancer? Something smells fishy to me."

"What do you mean?" Santana intoned curiously, tilting her head.

"Well," Puck began. "Pierce is that dance teacher's favorite student, right? And you try your best to make the nerd miserable. What if they're teaming up to get you back for over a decade of harassment?"

Santana's stomach twisted. There was no way that Bambi and the ultra-geek would act against her. Ms. Pillsbury was a teacher. And Brittany was smarter than that. Wasn't she? "No," she said, trying to assure herself more than Puck. "No, they wouldn’t dare." She wasn't sure whether Puck was saying these things just to see her squirm or if he was genuinely concerned that his suspicions would come true; either way, he had caught her attention. "Right? I mean…of course she wouldn't. Right?"

Puck shrugged as he parked the car. Santana looked up at Brittany's house, her jaw dropping instantly. "It's the quiet ones that you have to look out for," Puck said, but Santana barely heard him as she thanked him for the ride and clambered out of the car, dragging her bags with her.

An established fact about Brittany, the one thing that Santana knew for certain about her, was that the girl was not poor. Santana had never seen Brittany's home, but she had heard through the grapevine that Brittany's mom was some sort of surgeon, and there was speculation that her dad was an astronaut or some shit like that.

Either way, Brittany's family _definitely_ was not hurting.

Santana shook her head as Puck pulled away. She strutted up the walk slowly, displaying more confidence than she felt, and admired the house in front of her. It was large. An enormous plantation style house. Santana looked at the paper in her hand to double check the address. Her heart thumped with the realization that it was correct.

Santana stepped up and hesitantly rang the doorbell. The lock jiggled and Santana took one last shuddering breath. A blonde woman in a tight fitting dress appeared and Santana's first thought was that this woman - who absolutely could _not_ have been Brittany S. Pierce's mother - was _gorgeous_. Her hair fell in bright blonde ringlets around her face and when she smiled Santana was nearly blinded by the sheer brightness of her teeth. Thankfully, Santana caught herself before she began to salivate. "Um…hi." She waved awkwardly.

The woman's smile grew and she reached forward to grasp Santana's hand firmly. "You must be Santana!" She gushed, pulling Santana inside and shutting the door. "I'm Brittany's mom, Susan." She began to walk and gestured for Santana to follow her. "I'm sorry the house is such a mess, but I just got home from work and, if the time that Brittany told me is correct, you're a bit early."

Santana gaped at everything and mumbled an apology. The house was spacious, clean (despite Susan's insistence otherwise), and extremely quiet. There were beautiful paintings and statues and vases and intricately woven rugs. When Santana had begrudgingly agreed to tutoring, she had had no idea that a fucking _mansion_ awaited her – her house wasn't exactly small, but it was nowhere near this size).

Brittany's mother, Susan, directed her to the kitchen, a stark white room with many wonderful smells. "You can drop your bags over there," Susan said, pointing to a corner out of the way. "Wait in here and I'll go get Brittany."

Santana did everything that she was told and ventured to the stove. She wasn’t sure what was cooking and she knew that it would be out of place for her to just open the stove or take the lids off of pots, so she merely stood and stared. It had been years since she'd had a real home cooked meal, and it had been even longer that she had smelled anything so _wonderful_ (it didn't really help that she hadn't had anything to eat all day).

Santana was leaning over to get a better smell when she heard Brittany clear her throat behind her. Santana plastered on a cocky smirk and turned to face the blonde. When she was sure that Susan was nowhere within earshot, Santana asked, "'Sup, nerd?"

Brittany crossed her arms and glanced at her bare feet, looking wounded. "You're early."

"Obviously," Santana deadpanned. "Your mom's cool. It's hard to believe that you slipped out of that vagina." She watched as Brittany tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. This was Brittany. Nerdy, vulnerable Brittany, but something was missing. Santana narrowed her eyes and asked, "Where the fuck are your nerd-specs?" Brittany touched her face as if she'd just realized that her glasses were missing. It was kind of cute, Santana realized with horror. _Brittany_ was kind of cute. "Lose them among all of your…other…nerd things?"

Brittany scowled sadly, and Santana wondered if Brittany had noticed that her insult was lacking, that she had stumbled over her words. "We're eating dinner first," she said quietly. "Then we'll head down and start dancing."

Santana followed Brittany when she headed for the stairs. "Seriously, though," she called. "Where are your glasses? I was under the impression that you couldn't see without them." Santana could remember, very vividly, a time in junior high when she'd shoved Brittany down during gym class. Brittany's glasses had flown off of her face and she literally had not been able to see her hands in front of her face.

Brittany started up the stairs. Santana caught herself watching Brittany's backside and had to resist the urge to trip Brittany just to avert her mind. "I'm wearing contacts."

"Why not wear those at school?" Santana questioned. "You'll be happy to hear that they lessen the nerd factor considerably."

"They're expensive. More expensive than my glasses," Brittany explained timidly as they reached the second floor. "And I don't want to lose them by… _accidentally_ falling at school."

Santana smirked; she knew what Brittany was insinuating. She'd made it a goal to trip or knock Brittany down at least once a day. So far, she was sticking to that pretty well, and from her personal experience, contacts could fall out pretty easily. "No," she agreed mockingly. "We wouldn't want that." Brittany stared at her for a minute before turning and continuing to walk down the long hallway. "So I'm a bitch to you." Brittany stopped but didn't turn around, and Santana could see her fists clenching at her sides. "But you're going to feed me dinner?"

Brittany turned and Santana made sure to sneer extra evilly. " _I'm_ not feeding you," Brittany said. "My _mom_ is feeding you. She has this weird thing where she just _has_ to be nice to everyone no matter how horrible they are. She's an equal opportunist."

They stared at each other. Santana felt like she was in an old western standoff. Her eyes took in Brittany, noticing a lot of changes in the girl. She had changed from her slightly baggy jeans and hoodie to basketball shorts and a clingy t-shirt, her hair was up in a messy ponytail instead of covering her face, and she was barefoot. If she weren't already madly in love with the geek, Santana knew that this look would definitely do it. She narrowed her eyes, mainly at her own thoughts, and Brittany lowered her eyes and walked away.

Santana watched her turn into a room and shut the door forcefully. She closed her eyes. Only a few more months, she reminded herself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure of how dance classes work because I never took one, so I'm not quite sure if every high school has a thing called "Dance Company", but just in case; at the high school I went to, Dance Company was the highest dance class that a student could take, and to get in you had to audition. So if you were confused about that, I hope that clears it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: bullying and threats, and mentions of death.

After school Glee club meetings were the best part of Rachel Berry's day. It was the only time that she felt wanted at school and she cherished every single minute of it. Of course, it also helped that Kurt, her best friend, was also in the club. Glee club meetings were safe. Rachel and Kurt and all of their friends didn't have to worry about the threat of passing bullies, waiting with insults on the tips of their tongues and full Big Quench cups in their hands. The football players and cheerleaders were always out on their respective fields practicing, out of the way. 

During Glee club, Rachel could finally allow herself to be open, have fun, and _smile_.

It was quarter after six when Mr. Schue finally allowed them all to go home. Rachel sat cross legged on the stage they'd been rehearsing on and waited for everyone to clear out. She liked staying after, just a little bit longer than necessary, to savor the feeling. Rachel enjoyed having the place to herself, if only for a few precious moments. It was the only time of the day that she got to be alone; the hustle and bustle of her house was a bit overwhelming sometimes, what with her hyperactive dads and their eclectic friends that always seemed to be around.

Rachel packed her things slowly, making sure that her music sheets were tucked safely between her books, before swinging her messenger bag over her shoulder. She pushed through the aluminum double doors and trekked the dim hallway that ran backstage.

She had been debating since lunch about whether or not to stop by Brittany's on her way home to make sure that Santana hadn't, like, murdered her or something. In the end, she decided that she'd go home and call Brittany first; if Brittany needed her, she'd say so.

"Hey, dwarf." An arm snaked around her shoulders and Rachel tried to come to a stop. Wherever _that_ voice was, humiliation and mental anguish usually followed.

"H-hello, Quinn," Rachel stuttered nervously, trying once again to halt her now forced steps. "What do you want?" Rachel hoped that she didn't sound rude (or scared), but this was strange, especially since Quinn refused to look at her, refused to stare her down, and was _touching_ her. Rachel looked around, searching for Sam (he and Quinn were usually attached at the hip), but couldn't find him anywhere.

Quinn pulled her impossibly closer and squeezed her shoulder, making Rachel wince. "I just wanted to talk," Quinn said, her voice oozing sickly sweetness. She turned her hard gaze onto Rachel and Rachel gulped. "Hey, are you aware that Santana was kicked off of the Cheerios?"

Rachel, if possible, sunk further into herself as Quinn opened the double doors leading to the back parking lot forcefully. "No," Rachel squeaked. The parking lot, to her horror, was vacant and the only source of light came from a lone streetlamp near the dumpsters. "I had no idea."

"So you haven't talked to your nerd recently," Quinn observed, narrowing her eyes. She pulled Rachel to a halt half way between the auditorium building and Rachel's car, shrouded in darkness. She kept a firm grip on Rachel's wrist to keep her from running.

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head vigorously. She could hear the football players on the field, squeezing in one last, long practice before tomorrow's big game. She wanted to scream, but she doubted that they'd care enough to come to her rescue. "I haven't talked to _Brittany_ since lunch."

Quinn sneered. "Well, because of this stupid dance class, Santana was kicked off of the Cheerios. And she might not graduate."

Now that her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, Rachel could see the outline of Quinn's features clearly. "That's…" Rachel trailed off, searching for the right word, the word that would make Quinn _not_ hit her. She wasn't exactly sure what Quinn wanted her to do about all of this. Rachel Berry could do a lot of things, but one of those many things was not dancing. Even if she wanted to help, Rachel knew that there was really no way that she could.

Quinn jerked her wrist hard, bringing their bodies flush together, their noses bumping each other. Rachel gulped and glanced between their bodies. Quinn's heaving breasts pressed against her own. Her eyes met Quinn's once again and she wondered – not for the first time – why the cheerleader hated her so much. Rachel had barely said two words to Quinn in the past three years.

"I…" Rachel gulped before starting again. "I'm not certain about what this has to do with me. There's nothing I can do."

Quinn smirked, stared at Rachel's lips, and licked her own. She leaned closer, their cheeks barely brushing, so that she could whisper lowly in Rachel's ear. "You can pass a message to Brittany."

Rachel shivered and closed her eyes. She'd never admit it, mainly because Quinn was such a bitch now, but there had been a time when Rachel had dreamt of marrying Quinn. There had been a time when Rachel would walk the halls of McKinley worrying about everyone _but_ Quinn tormenting her. There had been a time, before Quinn had become captain of the Cheerios, before she had been asked out by Sam Evans, the hotshot linebacker. Quinn had been sweet and kind and caring. The Quinn Fabray sneering down at her now was not the same Quinn Fabray who had picked her up off of the floor at the beginning of freshman year after a burly senior from the hockey team had pushed her down. Then, Quinn had gathered Rachel's things and walked her to the nurse's office. Rachel missed that Quinn, the Quinn that she could exchange shy glances with in class, the Quinn that she fell in love with.

"Tell your girl," Quinn continued. "That if she doesn't get Santana back on the squad, she'll be sorry. And if Santana doesn't graduate…well, it'd be best if Brittany skipped town."

Rachel pulled away as far as Quinn's grip would allow her and stared at Quinn in horror. "Are you…are you threatening Brittany's _life_?" She asked.

Quinn released her grip on Rachel’s wrist and smirked. “Just pass it on.”

Quinn began to walk away. Rachel swallowed harshly, quickly losing sight of the cheerleader in the darkness. “Quinn?” She called, but Quinn continued to walk.

\-----

With no one upstairs to harass or talk to, Santana ventured back to the kitchen where Susan was now standing at the stove. “I hope you brought your appetite,” Susan gushed. She didn’t bother to turn around, so Santana helped herself to a seat at the kitchen table.

“How’d you do that?”

Susan turned to face Santana. “Do what?” She leaned against the stove, carefully avoiding the hot pots and giving Santana her undivided attention. Santana opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately thrown off by the intensity of Susan’s gaze. Santana had never had someone listen to her with such eagerness. Half of the time, Santana wasn’t sure that her mother actually heard her and her friends…well, Sam and Quinn were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else. And sure, Puck listened to her, but sometimes she wasn't so sure he actually _heard_ her. 

“Um…how did you know that it was me? You didn’t look…I could have easily been Brittany.”

Susan smiled. “Brittany’s a dancer. She doesn’t make a sound when she walks. When she was younger, she used to run off, scaring me half to death. I had to either learn to listen hard enough to hear her steps or lose my child. You’re not a heavy walker either,” Susan said. “But you weren’t light enough to be Brittany.”

Santana smirked at the image of a little blonde girl with oversized glasses and hair in pigtails sprinting to the book section of a store. “So,” Santana said, wanting to change the subject. “What’s for dinner?”

Susan looked over her shoulder and back again, her hair whipping around her shoulders, and clapped her hands once. “It’s a surprise!” She busied herself again and Santana watched her in awe. There was absolutely no way that Brittany was related to this woman. Susan’s simple movements possessed an elegant grace that Brittany could only hope and pray to have. Susan was beautiful and vocal and friendly and all of the things that Brittany was not. Santana could only come up with two options; Brittany had either inherited bad genes from her father, or she was adopted.

Santana thought adoption seemed more plausible, though.

But there was something in the way that Susan looked at her, her eyes twinkling, that made Santana nervous. Santana knew that she wasn’t being paranoid when she saw the accusations that lay behind Susan’s happy demeanor. Santana couldn’t help but wonder how much Brittany had told her, how many days that Brittany had confided in Susan. Santana wondered how many times Brittany had dropped her name into the conversation, how many times she was just very vague, generic, with her description of her day. Santana wondered if, by now, Susan was able to fit all of the pieces together without Brittany even having to say a word. Whatever was happening inside of Susan’s head, in her eyes, Santana didn’t think she liked it.

“I know you don’t want to sit and watch these pots boil,” Susan said, waving a dismissive hand towards the stove. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen and motioned for Santana to join her. She pointed across the foyer into a room just beyond the stairs. “The entertainment room is through that door. Dinner will be another hour, so help yourself to anything in there.”

When Santana didn’t budge, Susan gave a small push to set her in motion. Santana walked slowly, glancing up the stairs for any sign of Brittany.

Santana stood in the doorway, taking the room in. The room wasn’t large, but it did have a large plasma TV on one wall, and connected to it were several video game systems (and Santana made quick note of the _Dance Dance Revolution_ mat in the middle of the floor). A couch and two La-Z-Boys framed the room, taking up most of the floor space, and on the far wall, a bookcase was over flowing with DVDs and video games. Santana’s jaw dropped. She had expected a library with, like, books, not cool shit like this. 

Santana released a long sigh. It was going to be a long day.

\-----

By the time that Brittany came downstairs, Santana had helped Susan set the table (for only three people, which Santana thought was odd. Brittany’s dad being an astronaut seemed like a very real possibility) and had joined Susan at the table in front of plates of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, and assorted vegetables. To someone who was used to a home cooked meal, it wouldn’t look like much, but Santana thought it was as close to heaven as she’d ever get. “Brittany will be down soon,” Susan had said. “She knows what time dinner is.”

Santana, though extremely hungry, stared skeptically at her plate. It all looked and smelled so good, but the work she’d be forced to do to burn it all off…Santana wanted to cringe. No way could her mom find out about this.

Brittany sat heavily in the chair in front of Santana. She eyed Santana, who had begun to eat, as she picked up her fork. “What’s wrong, Brittany?” Susan asked as she watched Brittany push her food around on her plate. She placed the back of her hand on Brittany’s forehead, but Brittany pulled away, glancing at Santana, obviously embarrassed.

“Mom, I’m not sick,” she said, finally shoving some potatoes into her mouth. “I’m not that hungry. I had a big lunch.”

Santana narrowed her eyes. Brittany probably hadn’t eaten anything at lunch since their meeting with Ms. Pillsbury had severely cut into their lunch period, so she knew that the blonde had to be hungry. She decided to keep her mouth shut about it, and instead said, “You have a beautiful home, Susan.”

Susan waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a bit extravagant for my tastes, but it’s been in the family for generations, so I couldn’t just sell it. We just recently renovated. Grandma won’t like it, though, will she Brittany?” One corner of Brittany’s lips lifted in an attempted smile.

“I’d kill to have a house this big,” Santana admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you do?”

“No, I don’t mind at all.” Susan smiled warmly at her. “I’m a neurosurgeon.” Santana’s jaw dropped. That explained Brittany’s brainiac ways. Susan turned to Brittany. “I have another long shift this weekend. I’ll be gone until Tuesday afternoon. I made enough dinner for you to have leftovers tomorrow and the fridge and pantry are both stocked. Can you get a ride to school from Rachel those two mornings?” Brittany nodded and Susan looked at her watch. "I actually have to leave in about thirty minutes. You sure you'll be okay?" Her eyes darted so quickly that Santana almost didn't see the implied message.

Brittany offered a small smile. "I always am, mom."

"So, um," Santana interrupted them. She looked around the kitchen, remembering that there had been two chairs at the table originally. For Santana to be able to sit, Susan had had to bring in an extra chair. It had peaked Santana's curiosity. "Where's your dad?"

Susan and Brittany grew deathly silent. Susan looked at Santana, then to Brittany. "Brittany-"

Brittany dropped her fork into her plate, producing an awful clatter. She then jumped from the table and sped towards the stairs. Susan rubbed her forehead.

Santana's forehead creased. "What did I say?" Normally Brittany running out of the room in tears would have sent tingles of joy down her spine, but this time something was wrong, so wrong that even Santana could feel it.

Susan smiled again, but it was watery. "I probably should have told you," she said. "Brittany's father passed away four years ago." Santana's heart dropped. "Brittany was very close with her father."

"Oh my god," Santana said. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Susan waved her hand. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. But you might want to go talk to Brittany. She might think you had an ulterior motive." That twinkle was back again, and Santana nodded if only to get out of the woman's gaze.

As soon as Susan instructed Santana on how to get to Brittany's room, Santana left the kitchen, hurrying as fast as she could. She may like to make Brittany miserable, but Santana knew what it was like to lose a father, and _no one_ deserved to go through that.

Counting to the third door on the right, Santana stared at it blankly. She took a deep breath and knocked twice before letting herself in. Brittany was sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at her hands. "Hey," Santana breathed, trying to wipe her voice clean of the snideness that Brittany's presence usually brought out.

Brittany looked up at her. A tear rolled down her face and she quickly wiped it away, looking more scared than sad in this moment. "What do you want?" She asked quietly. She made to stand, but Santana closed the door and stepped further into the room, making Brittany freeze.

Santana fidgeted. She wasn't used to apologizing. She never apologized to anyone for anything. "I just…" She started. "I just-"

"If you came to make me more miserable," Brittany said sadly. "You can save it. You've done your job for the day."

The statement angered Santana, but she wasn't sure whether it was because Brittany thought that that was all Santana was capable of or because she _had_ made Brittany miserable. "I came to apologize," Santana said forcefully. "I had no idea. I know what it's like to lose a parent, okay? My dad left us when I was eleven. I know it's not the same, but it's still painful and stuff. I know I live to torture you or whatever, but no one deserves to be reminded of that. So I'm sorry."

Though slightly shocked, Brittany seemed wholly unimpressed with Santana's impromptu speech. Brittany nodded curtly, stood from the bed, and moved to gather a few scattered papers from the desk by the wall. Santana kept her eyes firmly on Brittany, never looking at the pictures on the shelves, never eyeing the rack of CDs, never paying attention to the multitude of books on the bookcase; Santana didn't want to know anything else about the girl. What if they liked the same books or the same music? What if the pictures depicted Brittany at wild frat house parties that a cousin had snuck her into? Santana absolutely hated when her world tipped on its axis, and she knows that all of that would turn it a full 180.

"Let's just head down and get this over with," Brittany said. She clutched the stack of papers to her chest and hung her head, flinching as she passed Santana to open the door. As they descended the stairs, Brittany said, "Just let me say goodbye to my mom first."

Santana peered around Brittany's retreating form into the kitchen where Susan was finishing stuffing things into an overnight bag. The mother-daughter duo exchanged words (well, it was mostly Susan speaking and Brittany nodding), then they hugged, Susan waved farewell to Santana, and then the woman was heading out the door.

Santana's stomach began to flutter. She'd never been alone with Brittany. And even though she'd thought about it, she never thought she'd actually allow it to happen. She watched as Brittany took a deep breath and stared after her mom. Santana found herself wondering what Brittany was thinking, what she was feeling. If she were anyone else, she knew that she might feel sorry for the blonde. Then again, if she were anyone else, Brittany might not be miserable.

Santana was busy blaming thoughts about her father leaving and her mother being bat-shit-crazy for her sudden sappiness when Brittany passed her. "Basement's this way."

Santana crossed her arms and stayed rooted on the spot. "Basement?" She asked skeptically. Brittany stopped at a door down the hall and turned to regard Santana. "Nu-uh."

Brittany shrugged and opened the door. "Suit yourself," she said before disappearing. Then she called, "It's your grade and your future."

Santana threw her head back and groaned in frustration. Basements were dirty and nasty, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Plus, if Brittany murdered her and stuffed her body in the walls, no one would know. There would be no justice for Santana Lopez.

Not that her _mother_ would miss her or anything.

Santana huffed and tangled her fingers in her hair. She begrudgingly followed Brittany through the door. The blonde was nowhere in sight now, but Santana wound down the spiral staircase anyway. The sight awaiting her was one of the most surprising things she'd ever seen.

Where a basement should have been, a dance studio took up the entire level of the house. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the walls, stretching all around the room. Santana gaped at Brittany's back as she stooped to fiddle with the iHome on a shelf in the corner. "Wow," she said simply.

"Cool, huh?" Brittany asked. She placed her iPod in the iHome and scrolled through it for a moment. Then, she took the stack of papers in her hands again and turned to approach Santana.

"What is all of this?" Santana asked, gesturing around herself vaguely.

Brittany's gaze, one eyebrow cocked, made Santana feel stupid. "It's a dance studio," she said slowly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, yeah, duh," Santana snapped and Brittany flinched. "I meant why is there a dance studio under your house?"

Brittany became solemn again. "My dad converted our basement into this for me. It was my fourteenth birthday present, a year long project that he somehow managed to keep a secret. Right before…" She trailed off and swallowed hard. The loss of her father, Santana realized, probably attributed to why Brittany was the way she was. Like Santana, Brittany didn't have a father to watch sports with or to tell her that she was beautiful or special every day. Unlike Santana, though, Brittany had merely folded in on herself, immersing herself further into the books that she loved so much.

Santana nodded. She understood. "You know," Santana said, doing the only thing that she could think of to get Brittany to stop sniffling like that. "Normal people don't have dance studios under their homes."

Though Brittany didn't smile, Santana could tell that her crude attempt at humor was working. "Aren't you the one that tells me that I'm not normal on a daily basis?"

Santana smirked wickedly and she could tell that it took everything in Brittany to not run from the room. "Touché."

"Are you ready to do this?" Brittany asked impatiently.

"Not really," Santana answered honestly. "But I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

The question was anything but rhetorical. Santana actually wanted Brittany to offer her an alternative. At this point, Santana thought that she'd probably do anything. Instead, Brittany shrugged one shoulder and held up the papers for Santana to see.

"Ms. Pillsbury jotted some notes for us," she said, handing the sheets to Santana. "My main goal here is to motivate you. Make you like dancing. So she suggests that we start slow, just to warm up."

Dread pooled in Santana's stomach as she deftly flipped through the pages. "And by slow you mean…"

Brittany hesitated, her fingers curling around each other nervously. "Slow dance," she confirmed quietly.

"Fuck that," Santana said simply, staring at Brittany apprehensively.

Brittany scratched at her eyebrow, trying to hide how the comment stung. "Look," she whispered. "I don't like this any more than you do. We can jump right into the fast paced stuff that doesn't require us to touch each other, but I can already guarantee that your footwork is going to be sloppy which is going to make it harder for you in the long run."

Santana huffed and shoved Ms. Pillsbury's notes back into Brittany hands. "Fine," she grumbled. Brittany turned and headed back to the iHome, set the papers on the shelf beside of it, and turned on a slow song. Brittany stepped back up to Santana. They stood, inches apart, and Santana knew that Brittany was waiting for her to feel comfortable enough with this. Finally Santana stepped forward until there was no personal space left between them.

Brittany held up her hand and said, "Whenever you're ready."

Santana nodded (for her own reassurance more than anything else) and slid her hand into Brittany's. Brittany tugged her closer so that they were pressed together and suddenly Santana's senses were filled, intoxicating her with all things _Brittany_. She could hear Brittany breathing, feel her soft, yet intriguingly callused hands, and see her amazingly blue eyes. But the most overwhelming, the thing that made her breath catch in her throat, was Brittany's _smell_. Brittany must have noticed her falter because she was moving back and asking, "Hey, you okay?"

Santana raised her head – when the fuck did Pierce get so damn tall? – and her eyes met Brittany's concerned blue ones. "Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, it's just…you smell really good."

Brittany narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but Santana could see a little glimmer of happiness in their depths. "Um…thank you?"

Santana nodded faintly and stepped back to Brittany. Their hands resumed their positions, high and to Santana's left. "I…I don't know…"

Brittany took Santana's right wrist and guided her hand to rest on her collarbone, and then she dropped her own hand to Santana's hip. "I know," she said. "I'll lead. All you have to do is follow me."

Santana drew her eyebrows together. "Is it really that simple?"

Brittany nodded eagerly and Santana could see the love, the passion that Brittany really did have for dancing. "I'm going to step forward with my right foot," she explained further. "And you're going to step back with your left foot. And we alternate."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

By the time Santana was ready, the song was repeating. Brittany waited, counted to three, and then began, stepping forward with her right foot, driving Santana to step back with her left. When Brittany was certain that Santana had the back, forth, and alternating motion down, she began to take longer strides, picking up pace as they twirled. Santana marveled at how solid Brittany was, how muscular her arms were, how lean her body was, and how strong her slender hands were. Santana, just by looking at Brittany at school, couldn't have guessed that Brittany's body was actually drool-worthy.

"Ready for the big finish?" Brittany asked breathlessly. She didn't give Santana time to answer, and Santana suspected that her question was less of a question and more of a warning. She pushed Santana away from her, twirled her twice by the hand, then she lead Santana into a dip, her hand sliding up Santana's back to cup the back of her head for support. The song started again and Brittany pulled Santana up.

"Wow," Santana breathed as she tried to catch her breath.

"Good 'wow'?" Brittany asked, wind milling her arms a few times. "Bad 'wow'?"

"Shocked 'wow'," Santana supplied.

"Don't be," Brittany said, moving to turn the music off. "You're a cheerleader. A lot of cheerleaders can dance, whether they know it or not." Santana opened her mouth to tell Brittany that she wasn't surprised that she could dance, rather surprised that _Brittany_ could, but before she could get the words out, Brittany was asking her if she wanted to step it up a notch. She nodded, eager to see how good Brittany _really_ was. Brittany moved to pull on a clean pair of socks to protect her feet. "Well, take your shoes off."

\-----

It was almost eight o'clock when Santana finally had to tell Brittany that she could go no more. She was exhausted and sore. As Brittany raided the refrigerator for the leftovers from dinner, Santana stepped onto the front porch. Santana pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed Puck's number.

" _Hello_?"

"Why are you whispering?" Santana pressed the phone closer to her ear so that she could hear him.

" _I'm grounded_."

"What?" Santana asked, rubbing her forehead. When Puck was grounded, his parents always revoked his phone and car privileges. So he couldn't pick her up. "Why?"

" _It's a long story_ ," Puck said. " _Basically mom found Playboys in my room. Then my stepdad found out that the Playboys were his, 'cause, you know, I've been stealing them and stuff. That led to mom finding out that he had subscribed to Playboy behind her back. So, mom grounded me for having them and my stepdad grounded me for stealing them and for getting him in trouble_."

"Are you _kidding_ me? You don't even _like_ pussy!"

" _Hey, shut the fuck up, Lopez_!"

Santana ignored him. "So there goes you picking me up tonight?"

" _Afraid so_."

Then, he hung up on her and she sighed irritably. Her only other option was her mom (she wouldn't even try Quinn; that girl was so far up Sam's ass, Santana was surprised that she could even breathe) and Santana knew that that wouldn't end like she wanted it to.

Santana dialed her home number, heard the first tones of the answering machine, and hung up. Calling her mother's cell phone yielded the same results, only getting Santana a drunken voice message.

Santana sighed and pocketed her phone.

\-----

Brittany ran a hand through her sweat soaked hair. Today had not been as terrible as she she'd initially imagined that it would be, but certain moments had been pretty damn bad. Like being reminded of her father. But witnessing Santana Lopez actually _apologizing_ to her…well, Brittany figured the pain was worth it. Santana apologizing to someone, especially Brittany, was rarer than a UFO sighting.

Santana had stepped out onto the front porch and Brittany was just pulling a fork from a nearby drawer when the phone on the wall rang. Brittany shoved a forkful of warmed over meatloaf into her mouth and glanced at the caller id. She smiled when she saw that it was Rachel.

She and Rachel were far from best friends, but they shared a mutual respect for each other and had bonded fairly well over the years, after Brittany learned to ignore Rachel's bossy attitude and occasional know-it-all mannerisms, and Rachel learned to accept that, yes, Brittany did get straight A's without really trying – seriously, Ms. Holliday's trig class was _not_ that hard, no matter what Rachel said.

Brittany picked up the phone. "Hey, Rachel."

" _Where's Santana_?" Rachel asked immediately.

Brittany leaned back to peer into the foyer and said, "She's outside. Calling someone to pick her up, I think."

" _So you're okay_?" Rachel asked. " _You know what, never mind, you're obviously fine. Listen to me very closely. You have to get her grade up. She_ has _to get back on the Cheerios and she_ has _to graduate_."

Brittany laughed, because, seriously? Old news. "Yes, I know this. That is my job as her tutor."

" _No, you don't get it_ ," Rachel snapped. " _It is of the utmost importance that you tutor Santana to the best of your ability and get her grade up_."

Brittany dropped her fork onto her plate and leaned onto her elbows. As hungry as she was, Rachel sounded really upset. "Rachel, talk to me. What's going on?"

There was shifting on the other end of the line before Rachel spoke again. " _Okay, I've been worrying over this for, like, two hours trying to decide whether to tell you or not, because, hello, this came from Quinn Fabray which means that it's probably an empty threat, but-_ "

"Whoa, whoa," Brittany cut in. "Slow down, Rachel. Breathe. Threat? What are you talking about? Did Quinn threaten you?"

" _Quinn caught me after Glee club. She said that you'd be sorry if you didn't get Santana's grade up so she could get back on the Cheerios. And she said that if Santana doesn't graduate…Brittany, she practically threatened your life_."

Brittany remained quiet. In all of the years that she had been in school she'd been tormented, teased verbally, pushed, hit, and tripped on a daily, but never had her life been threatened. For as long as she could remember, she'd dreaded waking up in the mornings, dreaded going to school, but in all of those years, she had known that she was never in any _real_ danger.

"Rachel, are you sure-"

" _Quinn said_ ," Rachel began angrily. " _And I quote, 'if Santana doesn't graduate, well, it'd be best if Brittany skipped town'_."

"Oh," Brittany said dumbly. "Wow."

" _Wow? Wow?! That's all you can say_?"

"Well, I mean…there's really nothing that I can do," Brittany said helplessly, shrugging even though she knew that Rachel couldn't see her.

" _Report them_!" Rachel screeched.

"Technically we have no proof. It's your word against Quinn's."

" _I'm just worried about you, Brittany. I mean…Santana's her best friend, so, you know, she has to be in on it_."

"Then why wouldn't Santana threaten me herself?" Brittany asked. She placed her leftovers back in the refrigerator, her appetite now out the window. "I mean, why go through two different people when I've been here with her, alone, for four hours?"

Rachel gasped. " _You've been alone for four hours with that psycho_?!"

Brittany sighed. "Those musicals are really going to your head. I'm fine. I'll watch my back, okay? Thank you for telling me."

" _Just be careful, Pierce_."

\-----

Santana was busy running scenarios through her mind as she opened the front door and stepped back into the warm house. It would hurt her pride way too much to ask if she could stay the night, but she supposed asking Brittany to drive her home wouldn't be _that_ bad.

"Who was that?" Santana asked nosily, making Brittany jump.

Brittany tore her hand from the phone that she had just placed back in the cradle. "No one," she said quickly. "Just Rachel."

Santana snorted. "You nerds just flock together, huh?"

Brittany ignored her. "When is your mom picking you up?"

Santana sat heavily at the table. "Here's the thing," she said. "Puck is uber-grounded and my mom is…busy. Is there any way that you could maybe drive me home?"

Brittany rubbed the back of her neck. "No," she said. "We only have one car, and mom had to take it to get to work."

Santana stood up. "Looks like I'll be walking home tonight," she sighed, moving to gather her things. It wasn't that she lived very far away, it was just that the night was cold and there were absolutely zero streetlights in this Podunk town. "Thanks for the help tonight. When do we have to do this again?"

Santana looked up, expecting a quick answer. She could see the gears turning in Brittany's head, almost like when Ms. Holliday would put an especially complicated trigonometry problem on the board. "Look," Brittany said finally, her eyes darting nervously. "It's cold and it's dark. I know this is weird or whatever, but why don't you stay here tonight? I'll sleep on the pullout in the den and you can take my bed."

Santana's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"

Brittany shook her head. "No catch," she said. "And, if you want, we can have another session tomorrow."

Santana mentally weighed her options. On one hand, she could walk home, and (on the off chance that she actually arrived safely) wait until her mom decided to finished riding Julio or Ed or Marcus or whoever the hell the guy of the weekend was. On the other hand, she could sleep over with the one person that could ruin her future. "No catch?" Santana asked. "Like, none? At all?"

"Well," Brittany mumbled. "I mean, you could always walk home. It was just a suggestion."

Santana relented. "Fine." She stood from her stooped position, her hands automatically finding their perch on her hips. "But I'm taking the pullout. I don't want your bed."

Brittany frowned. "You can't sleep on the pullout," she argued. "That's where my mom sleeps. I'd feel weird letting you have her bed."

"Then why can't I sleep in the master bedroom?"

"It's an office now," Brittany said. "Mom had the bed moved out after…just take my bed."

Santana threw her hands up in frustration. "Okay, I'm not kicking you out of your bed. I'll sleep on the floor." If she slept in Brittany's bed, she knew her senses would take over again and she wouldn't get any sleep. Or worse, she'd have one of _those_ dreams again. She shuddered at the memory.

"You are not sleeping on the floor."

"Then where the hell am I going to sleep?" Brittany was silent. "Brittany? You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, Pierce!"

"Well, if we can't come to an agreement…" Brittany shrugged.

"I am _not_ sharing a bed with you," Santana said stubbornly, crossing her arms. "I don't want to catch the _nerd_."

Santana could see something snap in Brittany. "Being smart," Brittany fired back. "Is not contagious. If it were, I'm sure _you_ would be passing dance."

"Excuse me?" Santana said, placing a hand on her chest. " _Dancing_ is not relevant to your IQ. It's apparent since Porcelain is passing."

"Do not talk about Kurt like that," Brittany said. "You're just pissed because he's so amazing that Puck couldn't help but fall for him."

It took everything in Santana to restrain herself from lunging at Brittany. The nerd _knew_. She knew about Puck being gay. She knew about him being in love with Kurt Hummel of all people. "You don't know anything," Santana denied lowly. She stepped closer and bared her teeth. Brittany's malicious attitude seemed to disappear as she pressed herself back against the counter. "So just keep your mouth shut."

"Deny it all you want," Brittany said, attempting to sound braver than she felt. "But it's not hard to see. I can tell that Puck is in love with Kurt, not you…like you guys are trying so hard to pass off." Brittany stepped forward. "And I know that Quinn doesn't give two shits about Sam Evans, no matter how much she hangs all over him. I remember a time when she wasn't afraid to show that she's in love with Rachel. I know a lot more than you think," Brittany finished pointedly.

Santana gritted her teeth. Brittany was right. She did know a lot more than Santana thought that she did. Santana had always assumed that Brittany's ability to keep up with anything classified under 'social' had gone out of the window along with her communication skills. She was stunned into silence and, unable to come up with a valid argument, she grumbled, "Whatever."

"Do you want to share the bed or not?"

Santana inhaled sharply through her nose. "Fine."

\-----

Santana and Brittany each showered and then they spent the rest of the night in the entertainment room, Brittany reading and Santana playing DDR (very poorly, but whatever) and PS3. At 12:30, Brittany declared that she was going to bed and Santana decided to follow suit.

Brittany dug into her closet for an extra blanket, effectively making the bed into two beds so that they wouldn't have to touch at any point during the night. Santana remained vigilant in her quest to avoid looking at everything too much. She had _definitely_ had enough of Brittany's personal life for one day.

Santana slipped under her blanket and watched Brittany do the same. "Goodnight," Brittany said, turning off the lamp. Santana didn't respond as she rolled over to face the opposite wall.

Brittany's previous statements ran through her mind. If the nerd knew that much about who everyone was in love with…what did she know about Santana?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bullying/bitchiness

Kurt liked working nights best. Nights weren't busy, even Friday nights since most people had Netflix these days. He adjusted the collar of his green polo and cringed. Really, the worst part of working at Family Video was the attire. He'd done all that he could do, but not even Alexander McQueen himself could have turned the uniform into something wearable.

His seven to one Friday night shift was almost over. Thirty more minutes and he'd be free to fall into his warm bed. He'd lost track of Rachel after Glee club, but had seen Quinn retreating from the parking lot, looking pleased with herself. By the time he was able to walk from the football field (where he was most definitely not watching a well-muscled hot-shot quarterback practice) to the parking lot, whoever Quinn had obviously been terrorizing was long gone. He highly suspected that the victim had been Rachel, what with the look on Quinn's face, but he had not had the chance to call Rachel yet.

The bell to his left sounded, signaling the door had just opened, and Kurt called, "Hi, welcome to Family Video," over the top of the magazine that he was reading. A few minutes later, a stack of movies and video games was sitting under his nose. Kurt reached blindly for the handheld scanner, trying to finish the article that he was on, and asked, "Will that be all for you?"

When Kurt didn't get a response, he finally looked up from his magazine. "Do I need to report you?" Puck was smirking back at him. "Isn't this," he began, thumping the cover of the magazine. "Equivalent to sleeping on the job?"

"Oh, um…" Kurt tossed the _Vogue_ magazine out of Puck's reach and began to scan the barcodes on the boxes. "You wouldn't believe it, but Friday nights are pretty dead after ten."

Puck nodded. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. "Everyone has Netflix, right?"

"They're putting us out of business," Kurt said, smiling. Puck pulled out his wallet to retrieve his Family Video membership card. "Why are you out this late? Don't you have a big game tomorrow?"

"Nah." Puck handed the card to Kurt. "I'm grounded. My stepdad gave me the keys to my jeep to stock up on games and shit. He's not as strict as my mom."

Kurt scanned the card, his eyes avoiding Puck. He had conflicting feelings about Puck. On one hand, Puck was a jock, the biggest, jockiest jock of them all. And it wasn't like Puck wasn't smart, he just had absolutely no motivation for anything but football, and that bothered Kurt. On the other hand, Puck was gorgeous, and believe it or not, he was kind – at least when he wasn't with his friends. Kurt was convinced that Puck had one of the biggest hearts at McKinley. Sure, he had done his share of teasing over the years, but he had mellowed out considerably since the end of their junior year. Come senior year, he had almost been a completely different person.

Kurt frowned at the warning suddenly flashing on his computer screen. "Um, your card is expired."

"For real?" Puck frowned. "Can I renew it really quick?"

Kurt typed a few things into the database and shook his head. "It's in your mom's name. Only she can renew it. Sorry." He shrugged helplessly.

Puck was silent and Kurt hoped that he didn't want to argue. He seemed to want to play the 'but bro you know me!' card, but after a second, he simply said, "Well, shit." He picked up his stack, and Kurt watched in amazement as Puck walked around the store and put each box back where he'd found it. "See you Monday, man," he called as he walked through the security barriers.

"Bye Noah," Kurt called weakly, holding up his hand halfheartedly.

He turned to watch Puck strut across the parking lot, pulling his letterman closer against the chill of the night. He thought back to eighth grade, when Puck had cut his own hair into a Mohawk, just to experiment with looks. While he had shaved the sides of his head, Puck had neglected to trim the shaggy strip in the middle of his head, and everyone had laughed at him.

Kurt had found him under the bleachers, upset and very near tears. Puck had insulted Kurt, threatened to hurt him, and Kurt had merely offered to fix the messy self-cut. That afternoon, Puck, a hat pulled low over his head, had stepped off of the bus at Kurt's house and had allowed the smaller boy to trim his hair into a respectable, badass Mohawk.

Afterwards, Puck had thanked Kurt with a firm, chaste kiss on the lips. There had been no begging Kurt to keep silent, no threats to hurt him if he told anyone. Just a haircut, a kiss, and Kurt's dad driving Puck home.

Every day since then had been torture to Kurt. Not a day went by that he didn't think Puck would panic and turn on him (especially with the recent rumors about Puck floating around). Not a day went by that Kurt didn't wonder if it had meant something, anything to Puck. Puck had never been amazing with words; this Kurt knew from being in the same English classes, so maybe, Kurt thought, he hadn't known how to verbalize a sincere thank you.

Puck had since shaved the Mohawk in favor of a clean buzz cut; Kurt thought he looked better with the Mohawk, but whatever.

Kurt closed his eyes against the wave of emotions flooding him. "You're not in love," he told himself firmly. "You can't love him."

\-----

When Kurt finally got home, Rachel's number was on his cell phone and his home phone multiple times. He was finally able to call her back after he'd settled in.

Rachel sounded panicked, and after talking her down, Kurt was appalled to hear that Quinn had threatened Brittany's life. He'd known that Quinn was nasty (well, at least she was now), but he figured that he never knew how nasty until now.

Kurt did his best to assure Rachel that everything would be okay and begged her not to tell Brittany – which of course meant that she already had. Then he promised to help keep an eye on Brittany, just to be safe.

Though he wasn't quite sure any of them would fare well in a scuffle with anybody, even as a group.

" _Do you think she'd actually do it_?" Rachel asked before they hung up. She yawned, already half asleep. " _Do something to hurt Brittany, I mean…like, hire a hit man or something_."

Kurt smiled to himself. "No," he said. "No, Quinn is all talk."

When Rachel finally allowed him to go, Kurt hung up the phone and plopped onto his own bed. Rachel was his best friend, he pondered, and he had just lied to her. Because, yes, he did believe that Quinn would do all of those things. He did believe that she was fully capable of it.

But he couldn't tell Rachel that.

\-----

Santana didn't dream often; that is, Santana didn't have dreams that she considered good or happy. She usually dreamt when she was angry or upset. Occasionally she dreamt when she was especially horny, in which case Brittany may or may not have made appearances.

Last night had been one of _those_ nights. Her dream had been the most intense yet, and when she awoke, reaching for a blonde dancer that wasn't there, her underwear was soaked through and she was a little more than ticked off.

Santana sat on the side of Brittany's bed and rubbed her eyes wearily. The sun was exceptionally bright and Santana chanced a glance at the clock. She frowned. Surely it wasn't _three in the afternoon_. She took her cell phone from the night stand to double check the time. Yeah, it was definitely three p.m.

Santana, having the psychotic mother that she had, had not slept past six in the morning since she was 13. And while getting fifteen hours actually had her feeling rested, she was slightly angry. Why the fuck hadn't Brittany woken her up?

Santana rose and hurried down the stairs on stiff legs, entering the entertainment room where she could hear the TV turned up a bit too loud. Brittany was sitting on the couch in sweats, a tank top, and with her hair up. There was a fat cat draped across the back of her neck, sleeping soundly, and Santana thought the position looked uncomfortable, but whatever. Brittany was busy frantically mashing buttons on an X-Box controller, her character furiously shooting zombies. Santana rolled her eyes and walked around to face Brittany.

"Morning," Brittany greeted, never taking her eyes off of her game. Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth. "I know you have to be hungry – _DIE_! – so there's breakfast foods – _NOOO_! – in the pantry and lunch stuff in the fridge."

Santana crossed her arms. "When did you get up?"

Brittany groaned as she was swarmed on the game. "About nine," she answered. The cat draped across her shoulders picked its head up and regarded Santana with narrowed eyes. "This is Lord Tubbington," Brittany said, tilting her controller dramatically, as if the action would keep her from dying.

"Is that seriously its name?" Santana shifted from one foot to the other.

"Duh." It seemed that Brittany had forgotten who was standing in front of her, and had the animal around her neck not been glaring menacingly at Santana, she would have had a very strong opinion on that fact. As it was-

"I don't like the way it's looking at me," Santana said uneasily as the cat blinked.

"Tubbs wouldn’t hurt a fly," Brittany promised halfheartedly.

"Yeah, sure," Santana said skeptically, taking a step back when the cat's tail swished. "Why didn't you get me up?" Santana was actually a little hurt (who the hell wouldn't want to spend time with her?), but mostly she was embarrassed that she had slept all day.

Brittany shrugged, and Lord Tubbington meowed in protest. "I was going to get you up earlier, but you looked comfortable."

And she had been, Santana thought. It had been the best sleep that she had gotten since her dad had left. Brittany's bed at been comfortable, firm, but not back-breakingly so, and Santana had found that she hadn't woken up once in the fifteen hours that she was in it.

Brittany finally tore her eyes away from the screen to look Santana in the eye. "But, you were, like, mumbling, too."

Santana could feel herself flush as she remembered her dreams. "Mumbling?"

"Yeah." Brittany nodded. She set her controller on the table in front of her and stood, holding Tubbs in place so that he wouldn't fall. "But, I couldn't tell what you were saying. I figured you needed the sleep, so I left you." She shrugged again and Tubbs let out what sounded to Santana like a growl. "You looked really exhausted."

When Santana had crawled into bed, she had expected to be woken up by a drill sergeant in the early hours. She hadn't expected Brittany to _care_ about her. She hadn't expected Brittany to be kind to her at all. She was expecting retaliation for everything that she'd done to Brittany since elementary school. The kindness was off putting, and Santana just wanted to scream at Brittany to stop. 

"So, do you feel up for another tutoring session?" Brittany asked.

Santana ignored the question and fired one of her own back. "You are aware that I have to choreograph a dance of my own for the exam, right?" Brittany nodded. "Well, shouldn't we…oh, I don't know…be working on that?"

"We will!" Brittany insisted. "We'll start that closer to exam time. Right now, I just think that we need to work on your footing more. So are you ready to go today?"

\-----

"I don't bend that way and I wish that you would stop insisting that I do!"

They'd been at it less than an hour, but already tensions were beginning to run high in Brittany's studio. After Santana's intense dream, every little touch from Brittany set Santana on fire. Even taking Brittany's hand for a simple routine sent unwanted tingles into her spine, and, quite frankly, it was pissing Santana off.

Brittany flinched at Santana's sudden outburst. "I'm sorry," she said. She took a few steps backwards, turned the music off with the remote, and thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her low riding sweat pants. "I'm sorry," she repeated quietly. "It's just…"

"What?" Santana snapped. Her hands found purchase on her hips, which seemed to be of some comfort to Brittany. "Finish your damn sentence."

"Well, it's just that I've tutored cheerleaders before." Brittany stared at her feet as they shuffled awkwardly.

"So?" Santana rolled her eyes. "What is the point and how do I make you get to it?"

Behind the veil of stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail, Santana could see Brittany grit her teeth. "I've tutored cheerleaders before," she began again. "Biology, AP Calculus, World History. But never dance."

Santana's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "The fuck are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that this is hard for me too, okay?" Brittany finally looked up angrily. "I've never had to tutor for dance. This is a learning experience for both of us, and it would go a lot smoother if you'd stop insulting me every five seconds."

"How about you stop trying to tell me how to live my life?" Santana shot back, even though she knew that the argument made no sense at all.

"What?" Brittany asked, her brows coming together in confusion. "I'm not, though. I'm just saying that we could do this a lot easier if you'd stop being a…" Brittany trailed off and snapped her mouth shut, realizing that the word on the tip of her tongue would have gotten her into more trouble than she was willing to deal with.

Santana stepped closer and Brittany gulped. The truth (not that she would ever admit it, of course) was that Brittany's near slip up was like a punch to Santana's sternum. It was hard to hear that from someone that Santana very, very secretly, and very, very deeply, admired, even if it was true. "Shut the fuck up," Santana growled. "And turn the damn music back on."

\-----

"What the fuck?"

"What?"

"What the hell is poking me?"

Brittany had chilled out with wanting Santana to do impossible extraneous bending, which had, in turned, allowed Santana to cool her temper a bit. And Brittany, much to Santana's chagrin, had decided that they should try a fast paced dance in which they had to stand close. 

Really close.

And now something on Brittany's body was poking Santana and she wasn't exactly sure what to think about that.

"What are you talking about?" Brittany asked.

"Something poked me," Santana repeated slowly. She reached down and took the hem of Brittany's shirt in her hand. By the time Brittany realized what was happening, Santana had already hiked her shirt up to expose her navel. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Brittany flushed a deep crimson and yanked her shirt down. "Surprise," she muttered, obviously embarrassed.

"You have your navel pierced?" Santana asked skeptically and Brittany nodded. Santana's hand twitched, a reflex of wanting to bring her hand to her own diamond-studded navel piercing, which only Puck knew about. "When?"

Brittany thought for a minute. "About two years ago. It was a rebellion thing, after my dad died."

Santana threw her hands up. "I want to get this all out of the way now," she said, taking a step back to give Brittany room. "What else is there that I don't know about you? Tell me. Now."

Brittany looked startled for a moment, unsure of what to do. She thought quietly, looking torn, then she finally lifted her shirt again, just a little bit, and lowered the waistband of her pants. Santana stood, watching carefully as Brittany covered the small tattoo of a haloed angel on her hip, and then turned her back to Santana and pulled up her shirt again, revealing another tattoo of an angel with wide-spread wings on her lower back.

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I should have known," she muttered. "Looks like little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes is a bit less than good."

Brittany lowered her shirt and faced Santana again. "After my dad died and my mom started dating again, yeah, I went through a bit of a rebellious stage," Brittany said. "The tattoos…they weren't supposed to be anything. But they ended up being sort a tribute to him. And I thought the ducky navel ring was cute."

Santana wanted to laugh maniacally. Brittany had given her everything she needed to ruin her reputation as the good girl. Everything Brittany had worked so hard for over the years could be gone at the snap of Santana's fingers. Santana liked control, and right now she pretty much had all of it. Santana made a mental note to come back to this later.

"You know what?" Santana asked, backing towards the door. "I've had enough of you for one weekend. So I'm going to go home and have some me time."

Brittany had obviously given up hiding the hurt that she felt when Santana made hateful comments. "Oh, okay," she said. "So…next weekend?"

Santana shrugged. "Got nothing better to do, I guess," she said viciously.

Santana gathered up her things. There was too much _Brittany_ in her brain, too many conflicting thoughts. Was Brittany really secretly a badass? The nice body, the kind-of-hotness at home, these things were kind of believable. Pierced navel, tattooed Brittany? Nu-uh. No one who hadn't seen it would believe it. Santana was willing to bet money that, if she pulled Brittany's shirt up in a few days, that 'piercing' and the 'tattoos' would be gone.

Santana smiled wickedly as she slammed Brittany's front door and walked home. Monday was going to be fun.

\-----

Her mother was waiting at the door, arms crossed angrily, when Santana finally got home.

"What?" Santana snapped. She bypassed her mother and stomped up the stairs.

"You didn't come home last night, young lady." Footsteps followed Santana to her room and she scoffed.

"Neither did you," she accused. "I called to see if you could pick me up because Puck is grounded. And _young lady_? I'm 18, woman!"

Ms. Lopez narrowed her eyes. "This isn't about me," she said. "You were supposed to come home after whatever it was that you were doing. No excuses."

Santana rubbed her temples. "Dance tutoring, mom. I called you right after school and told you. And by the time that we finished, it was dark, and there aren't any street lights between here and Brittany's."

"You take the long way then," her mother argued. "Where there are lights."

"Really, mom?" Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Or call Quinn. She's such a sweet young woman."

Santana snorted and held her hand to her mouth. That statement proved how little her mom knew about _everything_. Quinn had her sweet moments, sure, but she was far from innocent. Behind that sweet façade, Quinn was a sneaky, conniving bitch. "Yeah, right. She only answers Sam these days." Santana regarded her mother. "I have a better idea. You could have climbed off of whoever you were mounted on all night to answer your cell phone."

Ms. Lopez's face purpled with anger, but she couldn't exactly argue that Santana knew exactly where she had been. "You're grounded," she whispered lowly.

"What?!" Santana exclaimed. "You can't ground me for circumstances that I couldn't change! It's not my fault that you'd rather drink than answer your daughter's calls!"

Ms. Lopez huffed angrily and walked away, mumbling obscenities in Spanish.

Santana threw herself face down on her bed, contemplating sneaking out to cheer Puck on during the big game.

Monday never looked so good.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Pucktana bearding, bullying (no, seriously, Quinn and Santana are really terrible here).

Mondays suck. No matter who you were, no matter your IQ or social status, the cold, hard truth was just that. Mondays suck. The jocks and cheerleaders were recovering from their post-game parties, the nerds were cowering as close to the lockers as possible, and Rachel…well, Rachel was just hoping to avoid Quinn.

Quinn with her stupid threats and her dangerous, yet alluring aura. Quinn who had been so kind in the beginning. Quinn, the girl who repeatedly stomped on the heart that loved her with every beat it produced.

So it would only stand to reason that Quinn would find Rachel right after second period. Rachel had just finished switching out her books. She shut her locker door, and there was Quinn, waiting behind it, acting every bit the cliché high school creeper.

"Good morning, Quinn," Rachel greeted politely. She hugged her books closely and stepped away.

Quinn smiled and Rachel was taken aback at how genuine the gesture looked and felt. "Good morning, Rachel," Quinn chirped. "This is a lovely morning, don't you think?"

Rachel scratched her forehead and glanced outside. "Um…I guess so?" Except it wasn't because it was dark and there was freezing rain pouring from the sky in torrents. 

"Such a lovely morning," Quinn repeated, staring at Rachel.

Rachel shuffled her feet, growing nervous under Quinn's dreamy gaze. "Um, I'm not entirely sure that's an accurate description of this morning, Quinn. Are you feeling okay?"

Quinn shook her head, pulling herself from her trance, almost as if she hadn't realized what she had been doing. She cleared her throat. "Yeah…just…in a really good mood for some reason."

Rachel looked all around. "Where is Sam?" Normally the blonde football star was the center of Quinn's world, the source of her good moods. But now, he was nowhere to be found and Rachel was a bit thrown off. It was rare that the two of them weren't attached at the hip.

Quinn shrugged. She slung an arm around Rachel's shoulders and began to walk, encouraging Rachel to follow suit. "Did you pass the message?" She asked quietly, but the menace was strangely missing.

Still, Rachel's stomach flipped. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I told her."

"And?" Quinn pressed, smiling at one of her cheerleader friends.

Rachel stopped walking and swallowed hard. She didn't know what Quinn wanted her to say. She stood, looking up at Quinn. She seemed different, nicer, _happier_. Her ever present threatening demeanor seemed less threatening, and to say that Rachel was baffled would be a huge understatement. "And what?"

Quinn smiled and shook her head. "Never mind," she said airily before disappearing into the crowd.

\-----

Using the techniques that Brittany had taught her over the weekend, Santana found that dance class was considerably easier. She still wasn't the best in the class by any means, but she was right up there with Tina and she was slowly creeping up on Lady Hummel. Ms. Pillsbury praised her footwork and beamed with pride when she was able to stay on beat with the music. Santana had to actually admit that it felt pretty amazing to know that someone was proud of her, even if it was just Bambi.

But Santana most certainly did not enjoy the butterflies that came with the overwhelming urge to run directly to Brittany after class and tell her all about it. She didn't want to want to run to Brittany and hug the fuck out of her and thank her a million times for helping her enjoy the one class that she woke up every day dreading. 

To counterbalance these unwanted feelings, Santana sought out Brittany after class to put what she had planned into motion. When she couldn't find Brittany before lunch, Santana settled for grabbing Puck by the back of the neck and sticking her tongue down his throat, releasing all of her negative energy into a kiss that she knew neither of them was enjoying.

(Santana felt a strange pang in her chest when she finally caught a glimpse of Brittany at her locker further down the hallway.)

"Whoa, Lopez," Puck said. He grasped her hips and pushed her back. Santana pushed his hands off and moved in again, but Puck dodged her and grabbed her shoulders. "No. What's wrong?"

"Goddammit," Santana spat. "What do I have to do, grab you by the dick?"

Puck recoiled in surprise, but shifted his grip to Santana's wrists to keep her at bay. "While that would be enjoyable," he whispered, only half joking. "You only do this when something is wrong. As your best friend, I am obligated to care." He averted his eyes to Brittany, who was trying and failing to glance subtly at the two of them, briefly. "So I will ask you again. What's wrong?"

Santana huffed. She had every intention of unloading in the loudest way possible, but quickly deflated once she opened her mouth. "I just spent way too much time with her this weekend."

"Ah." Puck released his tight hold on Santana and hugged her. "Got her in your head, I see."

Santana ignored his question and pushed away from him. She'd never admit it, but Puck's hugs made almost every situation better. "In other news, you look like shit."

"Aw, how sweet of you."

"Okay, okay," Santana relented. "What's wrong?" Santana knew that all of the football players and the cheerleaders had partied hard after their big win on Saturday night, but Puck, having been grounded, had been taken straight home after the game. Despite that, Puck still looked disheveled, almost like he had partied harder than anyone.

Puck shrugged. "I didn't sleep well at all this weekend."

"Oh," Santana said quietly, and then lowered her voice even further. "Did you watch _that_ movie again?" 

"What? No! Very funny," Puck deadpanned. "One time and you just refuse to let it go."

"You screamed."

"Not the point."

"You screamed _like a girl_."

"So? That shit was scary!"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you or not?" Santana questioned. "Because I've got a long list of things that I could be doing besides beating this out of you."

Puck ran a hand over his recently buzzed hair. "Friday night, I went to Family Video-"

Santana interrupted him with an irritated sigh. "There's your problem," she said. "You saw Hummel and then couldn't stop thinking about him. I told you to stay away from there."

"How come you can be all love sick, but I can't?" Puck frowned. "I have feelings."

"I know how to handle my _feelings_ ," Santana said.

"Being a bitch to her won't make those _feelings_ go away," Puck said. "You do realize that the more you try to convince yourself that you'll get over her, the harder you'll fall, right?"

Santana scoffed, attempting to cover up that she was surprised that Puck had been able to put all of her fears into words in a matter of seconds, only to slap her in the face with them. "At least the love sick puppy act looks good on me." She shimmied, and then glared at a passing freshman who decided to take a longer look than she felt comfortable with. "At least I look hot."

The lunch bell rang and Santana left Puck standing by his locker. "Yeah, you just keeping telling yourself that, Lopez," he called after her. "You'll have to tell her one day!"

\-----

"Quinn and Sam broke up."

Rachel hadn't been listening to a word Finn was saying to her, but at this she perked up. "What? Why?"

Finn shrugged. "I dunno." He fiddled with his plastic fork. "She broke up with him right after the game on Saturday."

Across the table, Kurt was telling Brittany all about his weekend, and Brittany just looked like she wanted to put a fork in her eye. Rachel bit into a carrot thoughtfully. "She was different this morning," she said.

"I know!" Finn exclaimed, obviously glad that someone else had noticed. "Like…happier, right? She even said hey to me…it was weird."

Rachel's shoulders slumped in disappointment and she chastised herself for thinking that Quinn's cheerful mood had been caused by her. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Weird."

"They'll be back together before the end of the week," Kurt piped up. "Don't they do this all the time?"

Brittany, thankful for the distraction that took Kurt away, glanced to the jock's table. Most of them were still stuck in party mode, some were still in hang over mode, but Brittany's eyes were drawn instantly to Santana and Quinn, sitting off by themselves. Santana stood out in her regular clothes amongst the sea of red jerseys and cheerleading uniforms, and Brittany wondered if she really was aware of Quinn's threats towards her. Brittany didn’t think Santana was in on it (really, why would Santana have Quinn go through Rachel to get to her when she was alone with Brittany all weekend?), but Quinn and Santana had always been pretty tight, so there was really no way to tell.

Santana looked over and caught Brittany staring. An easy smile began to spread across Santana's face before she caught herself and scowled, her eyes hardening.

Brittany looked away, trying to hide her grin. The way to deal with Santana was to take baby steps, go one day at a time. She was sure she could break Santana.

\-----

Santana restrained herself from physically touching Brittany the entire week, knowing that, after the weekend, any physical contact would be the death of her. She settled for the occasional insult (mostly 'nerd' because she couldn't come up with something more clever) all week, and tried to feel a little pleasure the one time she walked into the bathroom only to be met with the sight of Brittany and Rachel cleaning slushy off of themselves.

Friday afternoon, Santana had finally talked herself up to go through with the plan she'd concocted. She had let Quinn in on it at the beginning of the week, mainly because she felt like this would be a two person job.

Santana watched Brittany at the other end of the hallway, pulling books from her bag and stuffing them into her locker. "You ready?" She asked Quinn. Quinn closed her locker and they both handed their things to Puck. Quinn nodded.

"What are you two up to?" Puck asked suspiciously.

Santana winked at him. "Just watch."

Quinn and Santana strutted confidently towards Brittany. Brittany was too busy exchanging her things to notice them. Santana reached forward and slammed Brittany's locker door, nearly catching Brittany's retreating fingers and successfully gaining the attention of everyone in the hallway. Brittany jumped and dropped her bag. She looked questioningly at Santana and Quinn and nudged her glasses up her nose, something that Santana was realizing was a nervous habit. Santana avoided looking into Brittany's confused eyes and focused on addressing everyone.

"Everyone listen up," she called. "I spent a lot of time with Brittany this weekend, and I learned something about her that I think everyone should know." Hundreds of eyes turned to Brittany and her face reddened. Santana smirked at her.

Brittany's frightened gaze turned to Santana as Quinn hooked the bend of each of her elbows, pinning her arms behind her back. To Santana, the sight was comical given the three inch height difference and the knowledge that Brittany could have fought both of them off had she not been so obviously terrified.

Santana reached forward, ignoring the part of her brain telling her not to do this. She took the tail of Brittany's shirt in one hand and the waist band of her jeans in the other. Brittany caught on to what Santana was doing and her eyes silently pleaded. "Wait-" she began to say, but Santana pulled her shirt up and the waist band of her jeans down and gasped.

The piercing and the tattoo that she had expected to disappear were still there. "What the fuck?" Quinn breathed. Santana could feel the student body closing in as everyone whispered and tried to get a better look at Brittany's rebel markings. Brittany's entire body was colored red in embarrassment.

"Turn her around," Santana commanded Quinn, already feeling dumb. Brittany didn't even put up a fight as Quinn spun her and Santana lifted her shirt. The tattoo spanning her lower back was still firmly in place, the intricacy making the artwork impossible to fake. Santana licked her thumb and pressed it against the ink, making Brittany jump, dragging until she was fully convinced that it was permanent. People were beginning to flat out laugh, but Santana knew that Brittany's embarrassment was more appealing to them than her stupidity. 

Santana and Quinn released Brittany and exchanged dumbstruck looks. Quinn shrugged. Brittany turned and looked around at the pointing, laughing crowd. The sad action only made people laugh harder. Her eyes finally spilled over when she looked to Santana. Santana wanted to say something, anything, but Brittany grabbed her bag and ran, crashing noisily through the front double doors. Santana's eyes remained fixed on the place that Brittany's face had been moments earlier. She couldn't understand why her heart felt the way that it did, but when Puck sidled up, asking, "What were you hoping to accomplish with that?" Santana buried her face in his chest, willing her tears away.

Quinn took her bag from the spot that Puck had dropped it when Santana rushed into his arms. She knew that Santana had been expecting the ink and piercing to be fake. Her plan had been to call Brittany on faking a piercing and tattoos to appear cool, prove that she wasn't perfect like most thought that she was; all that they had succeeded in was tainting a deeply missed man's memory.

She watched Puck hold Santana close, stroking her hair, and Rachel stomped up to her.

"Why would you do that?" Rachel screeched, her gaze snapping from Quinn to Santana and back again. Her voice rose with every syllable she uttered and Quinn frowned, but none of them attempted to stop Rachel. "Do you realize-" Rachel paused and took a deep breath. "You two…are terrible people." She turned to Quinn. "I can't believe I-" She stopped again, shook her head, and stalked away to find Brittany.

\-----

Puck still couldn't drive her and of course her mother was MIA again, so Santana was stuck walking from her house to Brittany's. The incident at school had happened well over two hours ago and all Santana wanted to do was explain. She didn't expect Brittany to forgive her (hell, she'd completely trashed Brittany's symbol of love for Mr. Pierce), she didn't expect Brittany to understand that this had been another act of cruel bullying, but Santana at least hoped Brittany would tolerate her long enough to finish tutoring her (yes, it was selfish, but hello, duh).

Santana rang the doorbell and rocked on the balls of her feet. After several long moments, Brittany opened the door, her heaving chest, sweatpants, and sweat-soaked gray tank top making it obvious that Brittany had just come from her dance studio. Rachel was hovering behind her by the stairs, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"What do you want?" Brittany's wounded voice drifted to Santana's ears and she cringed.

"We have a tutor date," Santana said feebly, hoping she didn't sound too hopeful. She needed this and she needed Brittany to understand that.

"No," Brittany said. She shook her head and blocked Santana's entrance into her house. "No."

"No?" Santana asked. She clutched the strap of her book bag tighter in her hands and stepped forward.

Brittany swallowed hard but stood her ground. "Find another tutor," she said quietly. "I'm not going to help you if you only repay me with humiliation."

"Oh, come on," Santana whined, trying not to jump in place like a toddler. "I've done this our entire lives and you're just _now_ having a problem with it?"

"She said no, Santana," Rachel piped up, but didn't move forward. Santana only spared her a small withering glare before her eyes returned to Brittany.

Brittany stared down at her. Santana knew that Brittany could tell that she was kind of sorry for what she had done. She was just waiting for Santana to say it, and, while apologizing would be a far cry from fixing things, Santana knew that it would be a decent start. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her; apologizing wasn't her thing. It wasn't something that she did, even on a yearly basis, so could Brittany really blame her? 

It appeared, for a short moment, that Brittany wanted to step aside and allow Santana in, but as she wavered, Rachel made a weird strangled noise in her throat, and Brittany's wall went right back up. She shook her head sadly. "Find a new tutor."

Then, the door slammed in Santana's face.

\-----

When Santana got home, she pulled the phone book from the desk drawer and copied Ms. Pillsbury's number down on a notepad. She dialed the number quickly and drummed her fingers on the desk.

" _Hello_?"

"Hi, Ms. Pillsbury," Santana said dejectedly. "This is Santana. I was just calling to tell you that some stuff went down, and, long story short, Brittany doesn't want to tutor me anymore."

Santana heard Ms. Pillsbury gasp theatrically and she nearly rolled her eyes. " _Okay, let me call around_ ," she said, and Santana could already hear papers, no doubt student information sheets, rustling. " _I'll see what I can arrange and I'll call you back, okay_?"

Santana hung up the phone and paced nervously. She hadn’t really thought that Brittany would refuse her, but then again she couldn’t blame her. Brittany had trusted her enough to reveal her secrets, the ones that she held closest to her heart, and Santana had completely taken it for granted.

Santana didn’t feel bad about many things that she had done in her life. But this? She was pretty sure this had to be the worst feeling ever, knowing that she ruined someone’s memory. What she had done was low, even for her (hell, that shit was low for _Quinn_ ).

The phone rang and Santana scrambled to answer it, but the voice that greeted her was Quinn’s.

“ _Have you talked to Pierce_?”

Santana sighed. “I went to her house because she was supposed to tutor me, and she just…turned me away.”

“ _Turned you away_?” Quinn’s demeanor changed. She no longer sounded like she regretted what they had done. Now, she just sounded angry.

“Yeah,” Santana confirmed, confused about Quinn’s sudden mood swing. “She said she doesn’t want to tutor me anymore since I only humiliate her. But, I mean, you can’t really blame her, right?”

“ _What about cheerleading? What about graduation_?” Quinn asked. “ _Santana_ -”

“I don’t know, okay?” Santana admitted. “Ms. Pillsbury is making some calls, but if not…hey, there’s always next year right?” Even as she said it, her heart broke; she _had_ to graduate. She had to get away from her lunatic of a mother. “Like, I said…I would have turned me away too.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Quinn said slowly. “ _Hey, look, I’ll talk to you on Monday, okay_?”

“Wait, what’s up?” Santana asked quickly. “Why are you angry? Did Sam do something?”

“ _What_?” Quinn asked. “ _No, no, Sam and I are cool. We talked and stuff_.”

“Well why are you so angry?” Santana asked obliviously.

Quinn was silent for a beat. “ _It’s nothing…I just remembered something that I…have to take care of_.”

“Well,” Santana said, deciding to let it go. “Okay then. Good luck at the game tonight.”

Before Santana could set the phone down, it was ringing again.

“ _Okay, I talked to Brittany_ ,” Ms. Pillsbury said. “ _And she’s very upset_.” Santana cringed. “ _So, I managed to arrange for Mike Chang to tutor you_.” Santana wanted to punch herself for feeling as disappointed as she did.

“Thank you,” she said dully.

“ _Santana_?” Ms. Pillsbury asked before she hung up. “ _I trust that you will treat Mike better than you treated Brittany_.” Then, she hung up without another word.

Santana dropped the phone on the couch beside of her and cradled her head in her hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Quinn's a bitch and Brittany is very forgiving.

Santana, doubled over and breathing heavily, watched as Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. Sweat beaded down her temple. They’d been dancing for nearly four and a half hours and Santana still couldn’t get the one routine down. Mike wasn’t, by any means, a bad teacher. His style was just…different. His movements were clipped, precise, and he expected Santana to hit every mark on the mark. It was only the first day and Santana was all geared up to throw in the towel and lay down to accept her fate.

Mike raked a hand through his thick black hair. “Okay, let’s go again.”

Santana stood straight and placed a hand on her aching hip, cradling it. “Again?” She gasped.

Mike grinned at her, like it was supposed to offer some comfort. “Yeah.”

Santana rolled her eyes. Mike was nice enough, but way too eager. “I think I’m finished for the day,” she said honestly. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Mike, unlike _some people_ , didn’t have his own dance studio, so they were stuck practicing at the dumpiest studio in town, the one with the busted air conditioner.

“Aw, come on,” Mike said. He walked towards the stereo and Santana narrowed her eyes at his back.

“Look, I’m not a dancer,” she snarked. She took her towel from her bag and mopped the back of her neck. “And I don’t claim to be-”

“Obviously.”

Santana took a deep breath. She had to control her temper. Mike was the only person that would and could teach her; she couldn’t afford to piss him off. She understood that he was just trying to be funny, to maybe break the tension, but really? “I’m not asking for much, Chang. Just a little patience.”

Mike’s face and playful demeanor dropped. “Patience won’t get you back on the Cheerios. Patience won’t get you walking across that stage come June. You don’t need patience, you need a push.”

“I agreed to meet you on a _Saturday_ ,” Santana fired back. She began to pack her things. “I _gave up_ my Saturday morning. I don’t do that for just anyone.”

Mike smirked and abandoned the stereo, obviously fighting the urge to remind her that he'd also sacrificed his Saturday morning to be there. “Should I feel honored?” He didn’t sound angry, he didn’t sound like he was trying to be a smartass. I just sounded curious, like he wanted to know exactly what was so special about Santana Lopez. 

Santana stood straight again and crossed her arms defensively. “Uh, yes, you should. No one is worth my Saturday.” If she were being honest with herself, she’d say that she was glad to get out of the house, glad to have her mind occupied by something other than her alcoholic mother and the girl that had, in a weird way, dumped her the night prior.

Mike was silent for a moment, but Santana could tell that there was something that he was just itching to ask her. She waved her hand, gesturing for him to spit it out already. He shrugged before asking, “Was Brittany worth it?”

Santana wanted to say no, really she did. Her heart picked up speed at the mention of Brittany’s name. Her hands shook. Once again, if she were being honest with herself, she would say that the time that she’d spent at Brittany’s house was the most fun that she’d had since her father and siblings left. Instead, she kept quiet, not trusting her own voice.

“Brittany and I are really close, you know?” Mike continued. “We’ve known each other since we were three, way before she moved to Lima. We’re practically brother and sister. Twins even.” He began to move his feet, dancing to a made up rhythm. “You know, except for me being Asian.”

Santana swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her eyes followed his movements. “What’s your point?”

“My point is,” Mike said before hefting himself into an impressive back flip. “Brittany and I talk and stuff.”

“So?”

Mike cocked an eyebrow. “So Brittany tells me everything. So I know a lot of stuff that you don’t.”

Santana scoffed, but a strange feeling began to flutter in her stomach. “Like what?” She asked quietly, hoping that her voice hadn’t squeaked the way that she suspected it did.

Mike Dougie’d his way to her, stopping a few feet short. “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.” He smiled kindly at her and she shuffled her feet nervously. “Bro code and all.”

“Bro code,” Santana agreed faintly. She wanted to release a snarky reply involving Brittany and a vulgar penis joke, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it, chalking it up to the fact that she and Puck had a bro code, and if there was one thing that Santana Lopez was not, it was a hypocrite.

“Yep.” Mike plopped down on the floor, stretched his lean legs out in front of him, and motioned for Santana to join him. “Look, I know that you don’t enjoy this dancing thing, and I understand. It’s not for everyone. And I know that having the right teacher makes all the difference in the world. I’m not the right teacher, am I?” Mike asked, though she suspected that he already knew the answer. Nonetheless, Santana shook her head reluctantly. Mike slapped her knee lightly. “And I’ll be completely honest with you…I want to be here about as much as you do. So why don’t you do us both a favor and go apologize to Brittany?”

Santana looked away. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. It was odd, she pondered, how she just felt the need to open up her soul to Mike. When people attempted to get personal with her, Santana’s first reaction was to throw out some hurtful comments and walk away, even with Puck. But Mike had such a caring air about him that Santana couldn’t help but cave at his insistence.

“What?” He asked. “What do you not know about?”

Santana swallowed to find her voice. “What if I apologize and she turns me away again?” She asked pitifully. “I’ll be right back to square one, with no tutor and still failing.”

Mike slapped her knee again, but let his hand rest there, squeezing lightly to draw her eyes back to him. “Tell you what. If she turns you away again, which she won’t, I’ll keep tutoring you.” Santana grimaced and he chuckled. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”

\-----

She’d had to practically beat the address out of Puck, but once she had it, Quinn set her plan to motion.

Her original plans had involved three of the hockey team’s burliest boys, but why send an ape to do a lady’s job? Plus, for the time being, she just wanted to put a little scare into the nerd. Knowing most of the hockey guys as well as she did, she knew things would get out of hand and escalate quickly.

She didn't want any bloodshed. Yet.

Now, ten minutes after Saturday morning practice, Quinn was standing in front of an absurdly large house, her cheerleading skirt fluttering in the breeze, and planning Noah Puckerman’s demise. There was absolutely no way that Brittany lived here.

Quinn double, then triple checked the house number that Puck had written down before ringing the doorbell. She surveyed the property with wary eyes until, finally, Brittany, drying her hands on a blue dish towel, opened the door.

Brittany nearly dropped the cloth at the sight of Quinn. “Um…”

“Brittany!” Quinn gushed, and then dropped her fake smile. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” She asked, even as she pushed past Brittany and into the entrance hall.

Brittany’s heart raced (what did heart attacks feel like?) and she turned her eyes to Quinn, whose hands were on her hips. Having Quinn Fabray in her home was scary enough, but her earlier threat and the fact that she just looked so pissed off just made it worse. Brittany had tried to keep her address private, on a need to know basis, since it seemed that everyone was out to get her. Yet, here Quinn was, looking every bit Brittany’s worst nightmare. “Um, hi?” She questioned cautiously.

“Oh, don’t even,” Quinn said. “Let’s get right to the point. Why’d you drop Santana like that? All the girl wants to do is be a cheerleader and graduate. Is it too much to ask that you help her?”

Brittany’s eyes darted nervously. Her mom was somewhere in the house, and now would be a great time for her to just pop up. It wasn’t that Brittany couldn’t fight her own battles, but this was Saturday. She shouldn’t _have_ to go through this today. The school week belonged to the jocks, the cheerleaders, to Santana and Quinn. The weekend? That was Brittany’s, and it wasn’t fair for Quinn to show up at her house and get in her face like this. “All I want is to go a day without being pushed, insulted, or humiliated…is _that_ too much to ask?”

Before Brittany could even think to blink, Quinn was standing mere millimeters from her, straining to literally get in her face; Brittany was a good three, maybe four, inches taller than her, and Quinn found it difficult to be badass on her tiptoes. “Excuse me?” She asked. “This isn’t about you.”

Brittany swallowed and took a step back, which was matched with a step forward from Quinn. She could easily imagine this happening at school, or even on the rare occasions where she walked home, but in her own house? Brittany never imagined she’d see the day that she’d be pummeled to death by the school bully in her own house with her mother only a few rooms away. She tried to sidestep Quinn, but Quinn grabbed her forearm to keep her in place.

“Here’s the deal, nerd,” Quinn seethed, digging her nails into Brittany's arm. Brittany flinched more at the insult, though, surprising herself. She was so used to them now that she never flinched, but she supposed she couldn’t really be blamed. This was a different atmosphere. Her home was tainted now, just like her father’s memory. “You’re going to tell Santana on Monday that you’ll keep tutoring her. Or you’ll regret it. Comprende?”

“Why should I?” Brittany asked, standing up to her full height in the hopes that, maybe, just maybe, it would intimidate Quinn; if it did, Quinn wasn’t showing it. “You two humiliated me yesterday and ruined something that was close to me.”

“And this is new?”

“It was cruel,” Brittany said. “And you know it.”

Quinn shrugged. “You’re alive.”

Brittany grit her teeth. “Unfortunately.”

“What is going on here?”

Quinn spun around. A blonde woman – a fucking gorgeous blonde woman – was standing behind her with her hands on her hips, eyeing the hand that was holding Brittany’s arm so tightly. Quinn released the limb and gave a small wave. “Hi, Ms. Pierce,” she greeted, taking a shot in the dark. “I just came by to ask Brittany if she would mind tutoring me in trigonometry. It’s such an awful subject, you know?” It was, of course, a lie, because absolutely no one could fail Ms. Holliday’s class. Turning back to Brittany, Quinn muttered, “Remember what I said.” Then, she sidestepped Brittany and exited the house through the still open door, feeling very proud of herself.

Brittany, hands shaking, shut and locked the door behind Quinn.

“What was that about?” Susan asked, crossing her arms, looking just as baffled as Brittany felt. “Was that one of those girls that gives you so much trouble at school?”

“Mom, everyone gives me trouble at school.” Brittany bypassed her mother to enter the kitchen. She took deep breaths, trying to push her tears away. She could sort of understand why Santana had a problem with her – that is, if she were reading Santana's body language correctly. But Quinn? Brittany couldn’t remember a time when she’d actually initiated a conversation with Quinn.

“Brittany-”

“Mom, please,” Brittany snapped, wiping furiously at her eyes. She threw the dish towel over her shoulder and leaned against the sink. “I can handle it, okay? Just…April and Allie will be here soon.”

\-----

Swallowing her pride was not something that Santana had ever pictured herself doing, especially when it came to Brittany, but here she was, walking towards the backyard of Brittany’s house. She’d been lying on the doorbell for a good five minutes and had finally heard playful screaming coming from the backyard.

Her talk with Mike earlier had left her more confused than ever about Brittany, but one thing was clear to her: she had to apologize. And not just for herself. She felt guilty about the whole tattoo and piercing thing, and she needed Brittany to know that she was truly sorry for it.

Rounding the corner, Santana was met with the most adorable sight ever. An older blonde, an older male, a little blonde girl, and Brittany were running around a small paved basketball court in the glow of the setting sun. As she watched, a smile on her face, the little girl stole the ball from the man and ran towards the goal. Brittany scooped her up and hefted her over her head so she could put the ball through the hoop. All of them cheered her on and Brittany sat the girl on her shoulders, performing a victory dance with her.

Santana’s smile grew as images bubbled up into her mind’s eye. An older Brittany, a little blonde boy and his younger, tanner, darker haired sister, a dog, all of them running around an impossibly green yard bordered by a white-

“Santana?” Santana blinked. Brittany was setting the little girl down next to her. She latched onto Brittany's hand as soon as her feet were on the ground, and Brittany led her to Santana. "What are you doing here?" Anger tinged the edges of her voice and Santana swallowed.

She took a deep breath to push all of the ridiculous images from her mind; there would be plenty of time to punch herself in the face later. "Hi," she breathed. "I was just wondering if we could talk." She looked down when she felt tiny fingers pinching the material of her jeans just above her knee. The little girl was curling a finger at her, beckoning Santana down. "Well, hey there cutie pie," Santana cooed once she was crouching and they were eye level. She glanced up at Brittany who was obviously having a hard time hiding her smile. "What's your name?"

"Allie," she said, grinning toothily.

Santana took Allie's hand and kissed the back of it affectionately. "Hello, Princess Allie. I'm Santana."

Allie's mouth formed a tight 'o' and she slapped a hand over it. She giggled behind her hand, looked up to Brittany, and pointed up at her with her free hand. Santana looked up. Brittany's face and the tips of her ears had turned an unnatural shade of red. Brittany tapped Allie on the back of her head twice and Allie took off, squealing all the way back to the man and woman standing on the pavement.

Santana stood up. Brittany pressed her lips together tightly. "She's three," she said as if that would answer all of Santana's life problems.

"She's cute," Santana said matter-of-factly.

Brittany nodded. "She's my niece," she said quietly. "That's my sister, April, and her husband, Jeremy."

"Cute family." Santana smiled as she watched Allie and Jeremy roll around in the grass.

"What do you want, Santana?" Brittany asked, cutting right to the chase. "Why are you here?"

Santana found it surprisingly difficult to tear her eyes away from the family across the yard. "I wanted to apologize," she said. "For yesterday." Brittany stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants and looked down at her shoes. Santana took it as a sign to continue. "What we did…what _I_ did was wrong. It was cruel. I, like, live to torment you, and you know that, but Friday I took it way too far. So, I'm sorry." Santana scuffed the toe of her shoe on the grass.

Santana heard Brittany sigh before the girl looked up. There were tears streaming down her pale face and it alarmed Santana. "Let me guess," Brittany sniffed. "Mike refuses to tutor you, so you need me?" Santana shook her head, but before she could argue her point, Brittany continued. "You hurt me. What you did was cruel."

"I know."

"My tribute to my father is ruined."

"I know."

"How could you?"

Santana hesitated a moment, then tentatively reached forward to tangle their fingers together; surprisingly, Brittany didn't resist. Then, Santana ran the pad of her free thumb across Brittany's closed eyelids, drying her drenched eyelashes; Brittany leaned into her touch. "What do I have to do to make you realize that I'm sorry? I feel bad, I felt bad the moment I did it. I know I suck, and I'm readily admitting that. I'm not asking you to tutor me again, that's your decision. But I do need you to understand that I'm _sorry_. I'm _so_ sorry." Brittany was silent, but Santana could feel her fingers twitching and she was aware of the multiple sets of eyes on them. "I'll get down on my knees if I have to. And, if you do choose to tell me that you'll tutor me again, I'll be better, I promise. I mean…I can't promise that I won't slip up because let's face it, I'm a bitch…but nothing like Friday. I swear. And…" She trailed off, steeling herself to relinquish some of her control. "Feel free to call me out on it."

Brittany looked overwhelmed with everything that Santana had said. She seemed unsure of where to start, her mouth working soundless for a few seconds. Finally, she settled for biting her lip shyly, and asked, "So…when do you want to start again?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: homophobia/slurs, I throw in some OC's, small Blaine part, and I have no idea how much a Big Mac costs, so don't sue me for my bad math.

When Brittany took her by the hand and spun her, Santana felt more at peace than she had in days. She giggled as they stopped, Brittany's front pressed tightly against her back, hips firm against her backside, and began to sway. The room was warm, elevated by the hand sweeping across the sliver of exposed skin across her mid drift, and Brittany had a strange patience with her that Mike could only ever dream of having.

After her heartfelt apology, Santana had planted herself firmly on the grass to watch Brittany and her family play basketball (Brittany was unnaturally skilled at that, too, Santana realized) until Susan announced that dinner was ready. Brittany bounded off, and Santana chanced to guess that she told Susan that she would be joining them; Susan did not look pleased, but her eyes softened considerably throughout the meal as she accepted the fact that Brittany wasn't that bothered by Santana's presence.

Santana got to know Brittany's family, too. April, her sister, was an RN two counties away. She was exactly like Brittany in every way possible, except her bright green eyes and her short stature (Santana was at least three inches taller than April). Jeremy was the type of man that Santana hoped her younger sister would find and marry. He joked lightheartedly at everyone's expense, especially Brittany's, but the love filling his gaze when he looked to April and Allie was unmatched by anything that Santana had ever seen (her parents had certainly never looked at each other like that while they were together). And Allie. Santana could go on for hours about Allie given the chance. She didn’t know that it was physically possible for a human being to be so fucking adorable with spaghetti sauce all over their face and in their hair, but there Allie was, making it happen like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And then there was Brittany. Santana knew that Brittany was mildly uncomfortable with her presence, but being around her family was loosening her up and if it were possible for her to fall more in love, Santana knew that she was screwed to the highest possible degree. She laughed and talked loudly and confidently, and it was almost like she had forgotten that this was Santana, the bitch who had made her life hell. More than once, Santana and Brittany’s eyes met and Santana couldn’t help but grin broadly, because damn the happiness permeating from this group was infectious.

Or maybe they had drugged her. It’s a very real possibility, and, strangely, Santana feels okay with that.

At 6:30, Brittany had excused herself and Santana and had led the way to the studio. Around thirty minutes later, April, Jeremy, and Allie had wandered down to bid them farewell, and an hour later, Susan came to tell them that she was leaving for another long shift. She ordered them to behave, and informed Brittany that she was carpooling, so the Jeep was hers until Tuesday afternoon.

Now, it was past midnight and there they were, swaying ass-to-front, giggling like they’d been best friends their entire lives. If she could spend her nights like this, Santana supposed she wouldn’t miss cheerleading that much. 

But, of course, only because she was getting away from her mother. 

Brittany had absolutely nothing to do with it. 

Nope.

Santana had long since accepted and become comfortable with her sexuality. If the whole school found out she was a lesbian, she knew it wouldn’t be that bad. But her real reason for needing Puck as a beard? Brittany. She didn't want to be in love with Brittany, of all people. She didn't want to dream of her and she didn't want to constantly think about her. 

She was always asking herself, why her? Why did she have to fall for _Brittany Pierce_ , Queen of the Nerds, of all people?

Now, there was a part of her brain asking her what on earth she was doing. She’s supposed to get over the nerd, to go to college and forget this girl’s existence. She wasn't supposed to stand here wrapped in Brittany’s strong embrace, giggling like a mad woman. This ‘friendship’ wasn’t supposed to take this turn. They were supposed to dance, and then go their separate ways.

But another part of her brain, the winning part of her brain, screamed that this was _right_ , told her to hold onto this warm feeling, to grab it and never let it go, because this? This was happiness. This was what it felt like to be loved, to be wanted. Something told her that no one would ever hold her like this, no one would ever emit this magical feeling from her again, and that scared the crap out of her. What if she ended up an alcoholic shut-in just like her mother, only leaving the house to fuck and party?

Before she could stop acting like a love-sick school girl on her own, the warmth of Brittany was gone from her back. Brittany turned off the music and turned back to Santana. She peeled her sweat pants away from her body, let them snap back into place, and said, “I think that’s good for tonight, what say you?”

Santana nodded, but the funny thing was that she didn’t feel like she’d been dancing for five and a half hours. “Yeah, I’m exhausted,” she lied, fanning herself. She was hot on Brittany’s heels as the blonde climbed the basement stairs two at a time and headed straight for the refrigerator.

“Hungry?” She called from her bent over position. Santana hopped up on the counter and let her feet dangle.

“Starved.”

Brittany rummaged desperately through the refrigerator’s contents. After a minute, she popped up grumpily. “April took the left over spaghetti,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Of course she would.”

Santana smirked and picked at the chipping black polish on her fingernail. “Trouble in paradise?”

Brittany huffed and slammed the door. “April can’t cook to save her life, so she always takes our food. Cow,” Brittany said; the mirth shining in her eyes told Santana that she was, of course, joking about the insult. “Alright,” Brittany continued, clapping her hands. “There is absolutely no food in this house.”

In answering protest, Santana’s stomach growled deeply. “None?” She palmed her abdomen.

Brittany shrugged. “If you’re that hungry, I can drive you home or something.”

“No,” Santana said quickly, her eyes widening. Brittany’s eyebrows knitted together and Santana cleared her throat. “I mean…I’d just rather be anywhere but home.”

“Even here?” Brittany smirked. “With me?”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said. “Trust me, if you had my mom you’d feel the same way.” Her stomach rumbled again and Brittany’s copied it. Truthfully, she was used to being hungry. She ate very small portions of breakfast and lunch, and no dinner at all, since her mother didn’t believe in the dependency of food any more. If Brittany didn’t have food, she could honestly deal.

Brittany bent at the waist slightly, as if she were listening to her stomach. “Oh, okay,” she said after a minute and two more growls. “That settles it. We’re getting food.”

Santana jumped off of the counter and followed Brittany into the foyer. “Brittany, it’s, like, one in the morning. Why don’t we just go to bed and you can do your grocery shopping later?” Santana knew that, as hungry as she was, she could buy out an entire Wal-Mart grocery section in minutes, so grocery store? Bad idea.

Brittany plucked a set of keys from the hook by the door and dropped them into Santana’s hands. “Hold these, please,” she said giddily before dashing up the stairs. She came down seconds later with a wallet and cell phone. “Ready?” She asked, even as she opened the door.

“But,” Santana began. “Where are we going? We’re not going to shower or anything?”

Brittany laughed and made sure the front door was locked securely. “Where we’re going,” she said, leading Santana to the garage. “Whether or not you shower doesn’t really matter.”

Santana’s eyes widened, trying and failing to think of a place _that_ disgusting, as Brittany led her into the garage, which appeared to be hand-built from the ground up. She chanced to ask, “Did your dad build this too?”

In the darkness, Santana could see Brittany tense for a millisecond. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, he was really big into carpentry. Most of the furniture in the house – the kitchen table, the cabinets, the entertainment system, the end tables – was all made by him.”

They climbed into the Jeep and Santana couldn’t turn off her curiosity. “Did you help him?” She asked quietly.

Brittany jammed the key into the ignition – a bit harder than necessary – and started the car. “Yeah,” she answered curtly. “All the time.”

“Did you-”

“Why do you want to know so much about my dad?” Brittany snapped, anger blazing in her eyes. Santana withdrew, eyes shifting in confusion.

“I was just…I’m just curious and stuff,” she mumbled, clearly taken aback by Brittany’s uncharacteristic outburst.

Brittany’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosened and she let out a shaky breath. She was used to being angry, used to being hurt. She was not, however, used to voicing it. Normally, she kept it bottled up, figuring it was better that way; she didn't get hurt more and she didn't hurt anyone back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I…I was very close to my dad. I don’t want to…it hurts to talk about him.”

Santana nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. We won’t talk about him.”

Brittany swiped a finger under her eye and used the remote to open the garage door behind them. “Thank you.”

They drove in silence. Santana wracked her brain for places that Brittany could be taking her until, finally, they pulled into an empty McDonald’s parking lot. Santana cocked a worried eyebrow. “Seriously?” Brittany grinned. “Brittany, no.”

They circled around to the drive-thru speaker and a tired voice crackled through. Brittany took the liberty of ordering two Big Macs, two large fries, and two large cokes, and when asked if she wanted to super-size the order, Santana could see the ‘what the hell’ pop into Brittany’s head before she even confirmed it. “You said your mom’s a health freak, right?” Brittany asked in response to the look Santana was sending her. “She won’t find out.”

“First off, I didn’t bring money with me,” Santana said, then lowered her voice. “And I don’t…I’ve never had fast food before, and I don’t really want to start eating it now.”

“First off,” Brittany began. She drove up the window and handed a twenty dollar bill to an agitated, twenty-something-year-old man. “Keep the change.”

The man scoffed. “You owe me, Pierce.”

Brittany chuckled. “That’s why I said keep the change, moron. That’s, like, a thirteen dollar tip. That’s more than you make in a week, dude!” The window slammed shut, and Brittany turned back to Santana. “First off, it’s my treat. Second, tonight, you’re getting your first taste of fast food.”

Santana swallowed and nodded to the man bagging their order behind the window. “You know him?”

“Yeah, that’s Blaine. He’s a resident at the hospital my mom works at,” Brittany said with a dismissive wave. “He’s working here to, like, pay off med school or something. Anyways, he owned me a big favor, so I texted him when I went upstairs to get him to delay closing.”

Santana laughed loudly. “That sounds like something Puck and I would do as a prank!” Brittany threw a smirk her way, telling Santana that she had done just that; prank Blaine on several occasions – which was probably why the dude was so pissy.

Blaine leaned out the window to hand Brittany their order. He looked to Santana, then back to Brittany, and winked suggestively. Brittany shook her head disapprovingly at him and rolled her window up, narrowly missing Blaine’s nose. He jerked back, dislodging his perfectly gelled hair in the process, and Brittany pointed and laughed at him through the window, much to his obvious disdain. Santana snorted in amusement as Brittany handed her the bag and pulled onto the road.

“You’re an odd person,” Santana mused.

Brittany reached over blindly and stole a fry. “Is that so?”

“Well. Maybe ‘odd’ is the wrong word.” Santana tapped her chin. “More like mysterious.”

Brittany scoffed. “Mysterious? How?”

“We’ve been in school together for ten years and I know, like, nothing about you.”

Brittany turned and blinked at Santana. “Oh my god. You’re serious aren’t you?” Santana nodded and Brittany laughed. “Are you that dense?”

Despite herself, Santana threw her head back and laughed. “I just mean, you’d think I’d at least know your middle name. All I know is that I starts with an 'S'.”

“You were too busy being mean to me, you jerk.” Santana laughed again. “The less you reveal the more people wonder.” Brittany took her hands off of the wheel long enough to mimic jazz hands and Santana clucked her tongue.

“Is that anyway to live your life?” She joked. “Shrouded in mystery?”

“Hey, it’s worked for me so far,” Brittany said with an affectionate smile. She brought the car to a stop at a red light. "Susan."

"What?"

"My middle name," Brittany explained. "Susan."

Santana smiled. "Brittany Susan," she said, letting the name roll off of her tongue. "Hm. Nice flow, good sound; I approve."

Brittany snorted. "Yeah, thanks for that."

Santana smiled again. "It must be nice to have a mom who loves you enough to give you her name."

"Santana," Brittany soothed. "I'm sure your mom loves you. I'm sure it's hard to love someone when you feel so unloved yourself. I recall you telling me that your dad left. Have you talked to him since he left?"

"Nope," Santana answered shortly, popping the 'P'. "Can we talk about something else? I don't like talking about him either." She knew that Brittany would understand.

Brittany smiled. "Done."

\-----

"This," Santana said around a gag, throwing her Big Mac back into the box. "Is disgusting. Why did I let you talk me into trying that?"

Brittany grinned at her and stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth. "You know you love it."

"Ew, no, please swallow," Santana said, and when Brittany grinned, she added, "And do _not_ say 'that's what she said'." Brittany shrugged and tore into her Big Mac again. "Ugh. It looked so much better in the picture." Santana pouted as she looked at the burger, which was more bun and lettuce than anything else.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed slowly. She let her own burger drop. "Most fast food usually looks better in pictures."

"Why did you do this to me?"

"We could have gone to the store and bought stuff to make waffles, but _noooo_ ," Brittany teased and Santana threw a fry at her.

"Shut up," Santana said. "I didn't want to go grocery shopping with you like we're married or something, sue me."

"Maybe I will." Brittany glanced at the clock. "Ready to hit the hay; it's almost two o'clock and I am _exhausted_."

Santana pushed her food away. "Yuck. Anything is better than this."

"Well, I mean, you could always go home if _anything_ is better."

"Don't even joke about that," Santana said seriously, pointing a finger.

They threw their still-full food containers in the trash and trudged up the stairs to Brittany's room.

"Seriously, you have a dance studio in your house but not an elevator?" Santana groused, and Brittany snorted. 

They dressed for bed – Brittany in the bathroom, Santana in Brittany's room – and then climbed in.

Santana stared up at the ceiling, wishing that she could finally take a long look around the room. She and Brittany were on good terms, and the more Santana learned about her, the less she wanted to tease Brittany (at least hurtfully). Brittany had an intriguing, playful air about her, one that had Santana just dying to know more and more about her. "Hey, Brittany?" She whispered.

"Yeah?" Brittany asked, obviously fighting sleep.

"Thanks for dinner."

When Brittany replied, Santana could clearly hear the smile in her voice. "Anytime, Santana."

\-----

The rest of the weekend flew by uneventfully. On Sunday, they began to talk about the dance Santana would have to do for her exam; Brittany still needed to check with Ms. Pillsbury about the specifications so that they were all clear. They didn't do much dancing, and at noon they settled in the entertainment room to co-annihilate Zombies on the X-Box for a while before switching over to watch cartoons.

Around eight o'clock, Santana decided that, while she really didn't want to, she had to go home; Brittany offered her bed again, plus a free ride to school the following morning if her mother was really _that_ bad.

"As much as I prefer anything and everything over home," Santana said, stretching her arms over her head. "My mom is a freak. I think it'd be best if I went home."

Something akin to disappointment shone in Brittany's eyes. "Well, do you want me to drive you home?"

Santana smiled. "I'd like that." She rose, gathered her things, and they headed for the garage. Between Santana's directions, they made small talk, mostly about school (assignments and teachers and the creepy Jacob Ben Israel skulking around the girls' bathrooms with his camera); the one thing that was mutually understood to keep unspoken was their new-found relationship and all things associated with it.

It was terrifying, Santana thought, to think that the dynamic that she had with Brittany had changed so suddenly. She had gone from hating everything that Brittany stood for to, literally in the blink of an eye, wanting nothing more than to spend every minute with the blonde, learning everything about her, delving into her past.

Imagine how shocked she was when she realized that she didn't want this information to harm Brittany. She just wanted to know. Anything to get Brittany to talk; that was all she wanted.

All too soon for Santana's taste, Brittany put the car in park in front of her house. The blonde surveyed the front of the house. "Looks like no one's home."

Santana scoffed and unlatched her seatbelt. "She's either still out partying," she said. She reached into the backseat to grab her things. "Or she's already passed out. Neither of those would be a bad thing."

Brittany's face contorted with concern. "Is it really that bad?" She asked. "I mean…" She trailed off and ran her finger tips through the key chains hanging from the ignition.

Santana took Brittany's hand to stop the jingling. "Thank you for the ride," she said, purposefully ignoring Brittany's question, because, yes, it was that bad; Santana wondered how her mom thought that she was going to stay skinny the way she drank and carried on, especially when she was sleeping more and more because of her hangovers. "I really appreciate it." And before she knew what she was doing, before she could stop herself or ask why or how the thought had entered her brain, Santana leaned over the center console and pressed a firm kiss against Brittany's lips. Brittany inhaled sharply through her nose, and when Santana pulled back, her eyes were comically wide. The confidence that had radiated from Brittany the entire weekend was gone, and she was left sputtering unintelligently, back against the driver's door.

Before she could do something stupid like apologize or take it back, Santana jumped out of the Jeep without another word and ran up the path to her front door on wobbly legs, never once looking back. Once inside, shrouded in darkness, Santana leaned against the door and touched her lips. She took deep breaths to calm her pounding heart and she could vaguely hear the Jeep peel away.

In her eighteen years of existence, Santana had done more stupid things than she could count on her fingers and toes combined, but kissing Brittany? That shit earned a spot at numero uno, the dumbest thing that she could have ever done. And there were bigger problems than Brittany being the biggest fucking nerd _ever_. Now, Brittany could really fucking _ruin_ her. How could she be so stupid?

"Bet you liked that," a slurred voice rose from the living room to her left.

Santana rolled her eyes. _Bitch would be home now_. "Go back to sleep, mother."

"Who is she?" Heavy footsteps followed the voice. "That dyke you kissed…who is she?"

Santana rubbed her forehead and hurried up the stairs. "Don't start with me, woman." After having such an amazing weekend, Santana knew she should have expected something to ruin it. Her mother had a way of bringing her down, of trampling all over her pride and self-worth, and her homophobic slurs against Brittany? Santana knew that that was just the thing to make her flip her shit. "I am not in the mood."

Maribel, leaning heavily against the banister, stumbled up the stairs after her. "You get your ass back down here, young lady. I'm not…I'm not finished with you."

Santana dropped her bag on the floor beside her bed and whirled to watch her mom stagger. "Well, too bad, because I'm finished with you, mom. Who was it this time? Raul? Julian? Jerry? Or…" Santana shuddered. "Ken?"

"You shut your mouth," Maribel warned. "You don't know me!"

Santana scoffed. "Not my fault. But, you're right, I don't know you." She kicked her bag with the toe of her shoe before pushing past her mother to get to the bathroom. "But honestly, with each passing day, I'm glad I don't know you. It's not that big of a loss for me."

"You never-" Maribel stopped as she stumbled. She caught herself on the door jamb and continued. "You never answered my question."

Santana looked at her in the mirror. "There was a reason for that," she said. She ran a clean cloth under the cold water flowing from the faucet. "Maybe you should let it go."

"Who was the dyke?" Maribel slurred. Santana pressed the cold rag to her face, trying to calm herself down. It was nights like this that she missed her dad the most. He had always been there to chase away the monsters in the dark, to hold her when she was scared. And now here she was, scared and facing the biggest monster of them all. Alone.

It just wasn't fair.

"Mom," Santana seethed. "Brittany's not gay. So drop it."

"But," her mother said sharply, suddenly looking as though she'd struck gold. "You are." Santana felt her face flush and she tried to stay calm, collected. "Aren’t you?" Her mother was beginning to sound more and more sober, and Santana knew that now was the perfect time to start being afraid.

"Just go to bed." She tried to push past, but the woman blocked the door. "Mom, you reek of booze. Go. To. Bed."

“Why did you kiss that whore?”

Santana’s blood boiled, but the kept her voice level. “You’re drunk. I’m not having this conversation with you now.”

Maribel stumbled back. “My daughter is a lesbian,” she wailed, throwing her hands up dramatically. Santana took the initiative and bolted to her room. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was about to happen. “I’ve failed as a parent!”

_Well, yeah you did_ , Santana wanted to say. _But that’s not why I’m gay_. She slammed her door shut and locked it just as Maribel fell against it. “You’re being dramatic. Go to bed!” Her mother pounded on the door. “Just go to sleep!”

“Santana Lopez open this door!”

“No! Go to bed!”

Santana fingers threaded tightly through her hair as her mother beat on the door relentlessly. This was something that she could not deal with tonight. Too much of her brain space was occupied by Brittany; she couldn’t worry about the consequences of accidentally coming out, too. Warily, she eyed the full duffle bag near her closet door. Filled with all of her necessities, Santana had packed the bag in January, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, just in case; she never thought she’d actually have to use it.

The thumping on her door ceased; before she could heave a relieved sigh, the tell-tale rattling of the key in the lock knocked the wind from her.

Even at her most intoxicated, her mother had never come for her like this. Tonight was so very different than any other night; Santana eyed the bag again.

The door swung open, slamming against the wall, the key still jammed in the lock, and Maribel looked like she was minutes, maybe seconds from passing out. Santana wished she would hurry up and do just that. Santana stood up to her full height, preparing herself to throw down if needed. “I won’t have it in my house.” She took a wobbly step forward. “I _won’t_ have _that_ in my home!”

“Oh,” Santana said, adding in her own special brand of attitude and holding up a finger. “Oh, okay, but you’ll have alcohol, drugs, and nameless, sketchy men into your home? Yeah, great parenting-”

The stinging in her cheek came before she even knew what hit her, and she was sitting sideways on the floor cradling her cheek as her mother tried to regain the balance that the force that she had exerted stole from her. Santana’s eyes welled with tears; her right cheek tingled unpleasantly. She’d been spanked as a child (like most mischievous children of the generation), but no one had ever fucking _backhanded_ her.

(Under different circumstances, Santana knew that she would be impressed with her mom’s strength and her powerful swing.)

Maribel shook her hand as she stared down at Santana. “Get out,” she slurred. “I won’t have that sinful, disgusting behavior or your blasphemous language against me; I am your _mother_! I want you out of my home!”

Santana had to chuckle. This woman backhanded her, kicked her out, sent her out to defend herself in the world with absolutely no means to do so, yet she had the downright nerve to call herself a mother?

Santana rolled her shoulders and rose on Jell-O legs. She looked the woman in the eye. “Fine,” she hissed. “You want me gone? Fine. I will _gladly_ leave.” She backed up, never taking her eyes off of the monster in front of her, and grabbed her emergency bag from the floor. “But just know this: you’re no mother. You haven’t been a mother since I was eleven. You didn’t need dad to be strong.” Santana swallowed a sob. “But I needed a mother. And you weren’t there. So, yeah…I’ll gladly leave.”

Santana shouldered past the woman who had given birth to her and raced down the stairs before her sobs could rip from her.

\-----

Brittany threw her keys on the table by the door and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her brain, which was usually so organized and in control, was one gigantic clusterfuck of emotion, all centered on Santana. Things were so much simpler when the other girl seemed to just loathe Brittany's existence; at least then Brittany knew exactly what was going through Santana's head.

Brittany pulled off her jacket, draped it over the banister, and trudged up the stairs. It was barely eight thirty, but she was surprisingly exhausted.

Lost in thought and half-way to her room, Brittany tripped over Lord Tubbington and he mrrped angrily in response. "Sorry, Tubbs!" She called to the cat's retreating tail before deciding to detour to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Brittany pondered what could have possessed Santana to kiss her as hot water rained down on her face. Maybe she was just thankful that Brittany had decided to entertain her for the weekend. Or perhaps she had been feeling extra grateful that Brittany had decided to forgive her and give her a second chance.

Either way, now Brittany didn't know what to think. Santana had always been confusing, had always kept Brittany guessing and wondering what her next move would be, but this was just ridiculous.

Brittany knew that she shouldn't let Santana get to her that way that she did, no matter how she did it, but there was something about Santana. It burrowed under her skin, in the crevices of her brain, and no matter what Brittany did, she couldn't shake herself of _Santana_.

Brittany stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed in clean sweats and a tank top. She ran a brush through her wet locks, deciding to let them air dry, and dutifully put on her thick-rimmed glasses. She stared at herself in the mirror, contemplating the specs. Brittany found herself wondering if Santana liked her better with or without them. Then, she shook her head.

Since when did she start caring what Santana, of all people, thought about her glasses?

She wandered back to her bedroom, picked a book off of the shelf, and settled under her blankets for the night.

That is, until her doorbell rang. Brittany threw her head back against her pillow in agitation. There were only really two possibilities of who could be on the reverse side of her front door. If Rachel wanted late night homework help, Brittany was going to be pissed; if Quinn wanted to threaten her again, Brittany figured she'd probably choose to live out the rest of her miserable days under a fucking rock.

Brittany thumped down the stairs, nudged Lord Tubbington away from the door, and opened it cautiously.

Seeing Santana on the other side, face tear stained and a duffle bag in hand, sent an unpleasant jolt right through her bellybutton, but before she could bombard Santana with questions, the other girl spoke.

"I knew it would happen eventually," Santana rasped, attempting a smile. She held her bag up briefly. "I mean, I've been packed for months. But having it actually happen…hearing her say it…"

"Santana-"

"I just didn't know where else to go." A painful sob ripped from Santana's body. She dropped her bag and her legs gave out and Brittany was right there to catch her, to pull her in and hold firmly. Santana fisted her hands in Brittany's shirt and she buried her face in Brittany's chest as she let go. Her tears soaked Brittany's shirt in seconds, and when she gasped for air, she only sobbed harder.

Brittany used one hand to rub circles on Santana's back while the other tangled in black hair. She pulled Santana inside and kicked the door shut, allowing Santana to collapse with her in the safety of the foyer when her brain finally told her that Santana needed to sit for a bit.

"Shh," she cooed, rocking Santana in her lap. "You're okay now. You're okay." Santana whined pitifully, attracting the attention of Lord Tubbington, who sniffed and licked her face. Brittany nudged him away. "You're going to stay here, okay?"

Santana shook her head, but snuggled closer. "I can't."

Despite the situation, Brittany giggled. "Give me one good reason."

Santana sobbed again and, for a moment, Brittany panicked. "I've been terrible to you. I can't ask you to do that."

Brittany released a bitter laugh, deciding to not point out that Santana did come here on her own accord. "C'mon." She helped Santana stand and plucked the girl's bag from the floor. "Let's get you cleaned up." She took Santana by the hand and led her up the stairs.

She dropped the bag by her bedroom door and pulled Santana into the bathroom. She ran a clean cloth under cool water. Then, she cupped Santana's neck with one hand, happy that Santana didn't flinch or shy away, and wiped under Santana's eyes and on the rounds of her cheeks, touching up when more tears fell from brown orbs. Finally, she smiled and tossed the cloth into the hamper, realizing that, right now, it was a lost cause.

Santana closed her eyes and Brittany took the opportunity to lay her forehead against Santana's, marveling at the other's sharp intake of breath. "You're going to get through this. It may not seem like it now…but I'm here, Puck's there for you, and…" Brittany swallowed. "Quinn's there for you. And you're staying here. At least until you can work something else out."

"I-"

"I don't want you roaming the streets," Brittany insisted. "Not at this time of night."

After a few seconds, Santana exhaled shakily and nodded. Brittany pulled away and stepped back. "Thank you," Santana whispered, gazing up at her through her wet eyelashes.

Brittany reached forward a bit, intending to caress Santana's arm, but thought better of it and dropped her hand back to her side. "Get in your pajamas," Brittany said quietly. "Tomorrow and Tuesday, you'll stay here. If you can't, or don't want to, find something else…we'll talk to my mom Tuesday night when she gets home. Okay?"

Santana nodded again and took the clothes that Brittany handed to her. "You don't have to do this." She wiped her cheek on her sleeve. "You can tell me to get out, too."

Brittany heaved a sigh, quickly growing tired of going in circles with the other girl. Hesitantly, she placed a hand on Santana's shoulder and lightly trailed her fingertips down to Santana's elbow, ignoring the way Santana shivered slightly. "I know," she said. "But I'm not. I won't."

The door snapped shut, Brittany leaving to give her some privacy, and Santana collapsed onto the closed toilet lid. With shaking hands, she retrieved her cell phone and sent a quick message to Puck so that he would know to not worry about picking her up in the morning. When she stopped to think about it, Santana didn't know why she'd gone straight to Brittany instead of Puck, her best friend. She was closer to Puck; she wasn't conflicted about her very platonic feelings for him, or his very platonic feelings for her. It would have been easier on her. They were a power duo, yet she'd run straight to Brittany.

Santana pulled on her pants and a tank top and headed back to Brittany's room. The blonde was already under the blanket on her side of the bed reading a book in true Brittany fashion, and Santana's side of the bed was made up, waiting for her.

It almost made Santana smile.

She pulled back the blanket and forced herself into the bed, turning on her side to face away from Brittany. She heard Brittany close her book, turn off her light, and throw her blanket to the floor. Before she could question it, Brittany slipped behind her and pressed against her back. Arms wound around her waist and Santana sobbed again.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked. "You're tutoring me, you bought me dinner, you're letting me stay here…"

She felt a hesitant kiss pressed to her shoulder blade and she sighed.

"Because you deserve it." Santana shook her head, but Brittany continued. "Can I ask you something?"

Santana's stomach knotted, preparing for a barrage of questions about her home life, her sexuality, her _feelings_ , but what came out of Brittany's mouth was a surprise.

"How does Quinn know where I live?"

"I…" Santana scrunched up her face and subconsciously pulled Brittany's arms around her tighter. "I didn't know that she did."

Brittany nuzzled her hair, right beside her ear. "Then, yeah," she whispered. "You deserve it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence. Lots of violence. Vicious, vicious words. And wow okay Quinn is terrible I'm so sorry (unless you like bitch!Quinn, then you're welcome).

Her face felt gross. And her bed was harder, yet strangely more comfortable, than it was when she fell asleep.

If her aching eyes were any indication, Santana knew that she'd been crying, but she could not figure out why. She tried and failed to open her eyes, so she settled for lying still on her hard yet comfortable bed, trying to figure out why she'd been crying. She knew by the ache her legs that she had danced all weekend. She remembered Brittany taking her home. She remembered leaning over the center console of the jeep and…oh.

_Oh_.

Right. Homeless. The state of her residential status now rested in the hands of Susan and Brittany fucking Pierce. Speaking of…

Holy crap…the bed was moving. No, scratch that, the bed underneath Santana was fucking _breathing_.

Santana's eyes popped open. It was still fairly dark out, but the lighting was just bright enough for Santana to make out the outline of Brittany. Under her. Santana exhaled. Sometime in the night, she and Brittany had shifted; now, Santana was half on top of Brittany, their legs so tangled that Santana was actually afraid to move for fear of snapping bones or something, and one of Brittany's hands was buried deep in Santana's hair, subconsciously massaging Santana's scalp in her sleep.

Santana shivered and gulped; Brittany stirred. Santana propped herself on her elbow and experimentally twisted her legs. _Shit_. She couldn't even tell which fucking legs were hers. _Shit_. The hand in her hair dropped and trailed lazily down her back, leaving goosebumps on Santana's skin, to plop lightly on the mattress behind her. Brittany stirred again. _Goddam_ -

"Mornin'," Brittany muttered, shifting her legs enough for Santana to wiggle free. She blinked sleepily, and a knowing pink tinge colored her cheeks.

"Yeah, uh." Santana coughed and slid farther away from Brittany. "Morning."

They were silent. Brittany stretched, working the kinks from her muscles. Santana averted her eyes, hoping Brittany was content with the silence, and pulled her knees to her chest. After several grunts and content sighs, Brittany's fingers found Santana's hip, making Santana jump. "It'll be okay."

If she was hoping to comfort Santana…well, Santana thought that she had been doing a better job by keeping her mouth shut. Once the words had passed her lips, Santana's tears began anew.

"Santana," Brittany whispered, crawling closer. "I'm sorry, I-"

Santana pushed her away and stood quickly. "Just…leave me alone, okay?"

"Santana, I just-"

"Look," Santana snapped. "You really can't help until you can tell me why this happened to me. Why I was born to parents who don't love me, who don't want me."

"You know that's not true."

"Yeah, well." Santana sniffed. "It's their loss. I'm going to leave this dumpy town; make something of myself. Find someone who wants and loves me."

"You have Puck," Brittany offered, and Santana scoffed. Brittany knew that story, apparently, so _not_ helping. "And Quinn."

Santana laughed loudly, bitterly, as she began to gather clothes to wear after her shower. Quinn was her friend, sure, but really all Quinn was good for was for teasing people apparently. She never seemed to be around when it counted, always too busy hanging all over Sam or stalking Berry.

Brittany twiddled her thumbs. "You have me," she whispered. Santana stopped abruptly and stared at Brittany. Brittany had never been any good with the convey-your-emotions-through-your-eyes-on-purpose thing (the puppy dog pout had failed to work on her mom, and had even gotten her into even more trouble when she was younger), but as she held eye contact with Santana, she tried to tell her, wordlessly, how serious she was. That she was there as long as Santana needed – or wanted – her.

Finally, Santana sighed, rubbed her eyes, and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Brittany sighed. _One step forward, two steps back_.

\-----

"Just drop me off around the corner."

Brittany cringed. "I mean…I know I'm not your favorite person or whatever, but-"

Santana scoffed, halting Brittany's words. "Get over yourself. I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you." She took the strap of her bag in her hand and unbuckled her seatbelt as Brittany pulled the jeep over, and then climbed out without another word.

Santana watched Brittany drive away. She knew she wasn't being fair to Brittany. The girl had offered her temporary, possibly permanent, shelter, and Santana was thankful, really she was. But the shock and sadness from the previous night had given way to burning rage.

At the moment, anger was the only emotion Santana was capable of feeling, and this time she didn't want to take it out on Brittany. She'd make it up to her later.

Santana trudged through the parking lot. Puck was just getting out of his car, so she sidled up beside of him and took his hand, mainly for the comfort, but it was also what was expected of them.

"Hey," he drawled, taking his hand from hers to slip his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. "So, you gonna let me in on why you didn't need a ride this morning?" He asked suggestively, adding a wink when she scowled at him.

She looked around to make sure no one would be able to hear them before knocking Puck's arm from her shoulders. "She knows," she said lowly.

"Who knows what?"

"Mrs. Claus knows Santa had an affair," Santana snapped sarcastically. Puck's eyes grew wide and Santana slapped his arm. "You idiot. My mom knows I'm gay."

"Oh, right." Puck looked crestfallen. "That."

"Yeah. _That_." Santana scuffed the toe of her shoe across the pavement. "And she kicked me out." Puck's eyes snapped from the ground to Santana. "I'm living with Brittany for now."

"Wanky."

"Shut up, that's _my_ word," Santana said. "Why do I even tell you anything?"

"You love me," Puck said like it was the most obvious thing ever. "In all seriousness…I'm here. You know that. Honestly, you'll be better off not living with that hag." Santana's eyes looked everywhere but at Puck. Sure, her mom was psycho, but…she was her _mom_ , the woman who had raised her. "I'm sorry…but…things happen for a reason."

"Yeah," Santana said reluctantly. "I guess you're right." She looked back up to him. He looked sad, like he wanted to say something, but before she could tell him to spit it out, he went ahead.

"So…is it over?" He sounded hopeful, but also sad. They'd been bearding for each other for as long as Santana could remember; maybe it was time to let go. This wasn't fair to Puck, knowing that he was finally gathering the courage to talk to Kurt.

"Yeah," Santana said, sighing sadly.

"Will you be okay?"

Shrugged, scuffing the toe of her shoe. "It's only a couple of months. I'll be fine," she said. Kurt, Rachel, and Tina passed by, discreetly cowering, but Santana could see the way Kurt's eyes lingered on Puck, and how Puck stared longingly after them, even after they had disappeared into the crowd. "Go get your man, stud."

"I don't know…"

Santana wanted to be angry. So much of her life was shifting - again. All of this was just like her father leaving all over again. But she couldn't be. Puck had been in love with Kurt for as long as she had been in love with Brittany. What kind of person would she be if she kept her best friend from the happiness that he deserved?

She looked back to Puck, knowing that the tears glistening in his eyes matched her own perfectly. They weren't dating. They did, though, for a month back in seventh grade. But in no way had she ever been _in_ love with him. They'd been best friends since before they could walk; they had grown closer because of their similar love predicament. They had been each other's first kiss, each other's first time, just so both would be special like it was supposed to be. They weren't _breaking up_ , not really, but losing Puck like this almost felt like she was losing another piece of her life. She fell into his open arms and held tight.

"If you still want a beard," Puck whispered. "Sam's available at the moment. I hear he's big into the beard game." Santana smiled at Puck's crack against Quinn's sexuality and nodded.

Of course, she had absolutely no intention of talking to Trouty Mouth, but it was the thought that counted. People milled around them and Santana hid her face in Puck's muscle shirt and sobbed. Everything was changing, and while she knew it would, she didn't know that it'd all be so fast, so close together.

"We were best friends before all of this and nothing about that is going to change," Puck assured her. She nodded again, because really she couldn't fully let Puck go even if she wanted to. "Just think…this entire thing brought us closer." He waited until they were mostly alone before he let her pull away. She wiped her face with her hands and Puck bumped her chin with his fist.

"Just do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Tell Kurt how you feel," Santana said seriously. "One of us deserves to leave high school happy. One of us deserves to get what we want."

"Look," Puck said. "If I tell Kurt, you have to-"

"Oh, no," Santana interrupted. "No. I know where you're going with that. Absolutely not. I'm not telling her a thing."

Puck laughed and threw his arm around her again. "We both deserve to come out of high school happy. Just give it some thought."

\-----

Brittany pushed her glasses up her nose and rifled through her locker, releasing an irritated sigh.

She knew that Santana was upset about being kicked out. But it really stung that she didn't want to be seen coming to school with Brittany. 

But Brittany supposed she was in no place to judge; she had a home, a mother and sister who loved every aspect of her, and she, unlike Santana, wasn't being tutored by a girl whom she'd tortured throughout school in order to graduate. Looking from that perspective, Brittany thought her life wasn't really as bad as she once thought it was.

Then again, she could easily sympathize with Santana. She'd lost her father and she'd gone through her rebellion phase because of it (she didn't regret it; she'd gotten a neat piercing that had caused a noticeable change in Mike's pants when she'd shown him and two tattoos that she was more than proud to say were dedicated to her father's memory). But Santana seemed to be stuck in her rebellion phase, like she wasn't quite sure how to break away from it.

Brittany wasn't 100% sure of the details, but she would have bet every penny she had that Santana's mother had seen Santana kiss her in the jeep. From what she had been told about the old bat, Brittany guessed that something like that wouldn't have gone over well with her.

And while Santana had kissed her out of the blue, Brittany couldn't help but feel guilty. She could have easily stopped Santana, but she hadn't. In a way, she thought, this was partially her fault.

Before she could delve into thinking about exactly why she hadn't pushed Santana away, a forceful hand reached over her shoulder and slammed her locker closed, just barely missing her retreating fingertips. Brittany squeezed her eyes closed tightly, willing her tears away. She'd thought she and Santana were past this. She'd thought that, even if they weren't technically friends, the harassment would stop. Brittany opened her mouth to quietly, pathetically ask what Santana wanted, but the voice that interrupted her was not Santana's.

"Have you talked to Santana yet?"

Brittany spun around to face Quinn and swallowed. "I…" What was she supposed to say? Did Santana want her to tell Quinn that their tutoring sessions had started again? There were so many what if's, so many ways that this could end badly for Brittany.

"It's not that hard of a question, nerd," Quinn seethed. She seemed to be in an especially bad mood and Brittany set her jaw, preparing herself. How come she could stand up for herself in her home, but she always swallowed her tongue at school?

"I…" Brittany, for the first time in her life, wished Santana would conveniently insert herself into this conversation. Maybe then Brittany would know what to say.

Quinn, seeming to have finally lost her patience, ripped Brittany's glasses from her face. Brittany gasped, thinking Quinn had finally snapped and was going to beat her face in; instead, Quinn threw the spectacles on the floor and stomped on them with her white cheerleading Nike.

Brittany stared open mouthed at the floor, her vision now dramatically more blurry. Those glasses had been new, only a couple of months old. Not to mention Brittany really liked them; they were a good shape, lightweight, and her shitty, poor excuse of an eye doctor had _finally_ gotten the prescription perfect.

"Make sure you handle it," Quinn spit. "By the end of the day."

If Brittany were a different person, she would have chased after Quinn as she walked away. She would have demanded that Quinn pay for the glasses that she had so heartlessly broken. Brittany bent down and plucked her twisted black frames, the only whole piece left, from the mess of glass on the floor. The fact was that Brittany wasn't a different person. She was the school nerd.

And she was destined to have this happen to her.

\-----

"You are a _terrible_ person!"

Quinn scoffed and pulled her Chemistry book from her locker. "What do you want, RuPaul? I've got important things to do today, and I don't need you yapping at my ankles."

"I saw what you just did to Brittany!" Rachel exclaimed. "You're reaching levels of low that I didn't even know existed, Quinn Fabray!"

"Oh, yeah?" Quinn slammed her locker door. "And what are you gonna do about it, Berry?" She looked Rachel up and down.

"Quinn…" Rachel swallowed. Quinn's gaze made her nervous, as usual, but she fought through it. "I know you. Okay? You're better than this." Quinn froze, and for a moment Rachel saw the Quinn from freshman year, the one who had picked her up before gathering her books for her and telling her that she'd be okay, that the senior that had sent her sprawling was just a jerk and didn't personify high school in its entirety. Rachel saw the Quinn that she loved and missed. "I know you can be a better person."

Quinn was clearly torn between repenting her evil ways and fleeing from Rachel. She settled on a smirk, the old Quinn quickly disappearing, and a dangerous whisper. "I'll just have to prove you wrong then."

Rachel didn't have time to contemplate the severity of Quinn's words; Brittany was staring down at her ruined glasses and looking more heartbroken than Rachel had ever seen her. She rushed to Brittany's side, but she wasn't expecting the words that tumbled from the blonde's lips.

"Help me find Santana."

"I…what?"

Brittany looked up from what was once her glasses. She squinted. The world around her was fuzzy now. There was no way she'd make it the rest of the day. "Help me find Santana," she repeated. "Please."

Though Rachel didn't understand why, she knew Brittany must have a good reason for needing Santana. She took Brittany by the arm and they pushed through the crowd, getting slammed against the lockers on more than one instance, until she was standing in front of Santana's locker.

Santana frowned but didn't say anything, so Rachel pushed Brittany closer. "Brittany wanted to talk to you."

"Thanks, Rachel," Brittany mumbled as Rachel walked away.

Santana could see that Brittany was upset and, despite her horrid mood, she couldn't help but be concerned. "What's wrong? And where are your glasses?"

Brittany held up what was left of her glasses. "I dropped my glasses," she lied.

"Jesus Christ, Brittany," Santana exclaimed, taking the mess from Brittany's hand. "It looks like someone fucking stomped on them! What happened?"

Brittany looked to the floor. "I was cleaning them," she said. "And I dropped them."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Is that what really happened?"

Brittany nodded and looked back to Santana. Santana didn't buy it. If Brittany had merely dropped her glasses, there was no way she'd be as upset as she was. But Santana knew that she had to take a deep breath, count backwards from ten, and let it go because Brittany obviously didn't want to talk about it right now. "Can you maybe go back to my house and get my contacts? I know it's a lot to ask, but…"

"Yeah," Santana said. She couldn't believe someone would do this; even she wouldn't have stooped so low as to break Brittany's glass on purpose. "Let's go find Puck. He can drive us."

"No," Brittany said. She pulled her car keys from her pocket and pressed them into Santana's hand. "We can take my car and be there and back before the late bell rings."

Santana spied Kurt and Puck down the hallway, chatting and laughing flirtatiously without a care, and she figured it was best to let her best friend be. "You don't mind ditching school?"

"Santana," Brittany said desperately, and something about her name on Brittany's lips, the way the blonde had said it, sent chills up and down Santana's spine. "I can't see. I need my contacts or I won't make it out of school alive today."

Santana smiled at how dramatic Brittany was, and took Brittany's bicep in her hand to carefully lead her through the crowd. Santana tried to ignore the looks that were thrown their way. Was the school bully leading the school nerd through the halls, helping her like they'd been friends their entire lives? Santana rolled her eyes, and the longer she held onto Brittany's elbow, the quieter it got.

Brittany leaned over to whisper in Santana's ear. "Why'd it get so quiet?"

"Because people obviously have never seen someone help a friend before," Santana spat loudly. Everyone gasped, making Brittany jump. "Stop leering! Rude." Everyone's gazes snapped away and normal activity resumed.

Once they broke through the double doors, the warm sunlight beating down on them, Santana sidled closer to Brittany. "Don't be upset, alright? We'll get your contacts and you'll be fine." Brittany nodded and looked away.

"Did you mean it?" She asked. "That we're friends?"

Santana lead Brittany to the passenger seat of the jeep, and then climbed into the driver's seat. "Yeah," she said quietly, brushing the question off. She knew they would probably get in trouble for leaving school, even though the bell hadn't rung yet, but they had a pretty legitimate reason in Santana's opinion.

They drove in tense silence. Santana was worried about Brittany. Yeah, she'd been snappy towards the blonde earlier, but Santana didn't think that warranted such painful silence. "Brittany, there's something you're not telling me."

Brittany looked at Santana, squinting desperately to focus. "I dropped my glasses," she said impatiently. "Why can't you let it go?"

"Because you're lying."

"How do you know?" Brittany challenged. "You weren't there."

_Whoa_. Brittany's tone had suddenly turned accusatory. That was never a good sign. "Look," Santana said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "All I know is that most people don't get this upset when they drop and break their glasses." Santana left out the fact that a five foot drop would not mangle even the most fragile glasses so severely. "So either you didn't just drop your glasses, or something completely irrelevant to the glasses situation happened. Pick your poison."

Brittany crossed her arms and tried to stare out the window. "It's just been a bad morning."

"We were barely at school for twenty minutes!" Santana yelled, momentarily forgetting that this was _Brittany_ , fragile, nerdy insult magnet. "I'm sorry," she amended when she noticed Brittany shrinking into herself. "I don't mean to push…you haven't looked this upset since Friday when Quinn and I-"

"Santana, I'm fine."

Santana bit her lip and decided to change the subject. "I'm hanging out with Quinn after school," she said. "I won't be back until around seven."

"Okay," Brittany mumbled. "I'm going to try and talk to Ms. Pillsbury today to get the specifics on your exam."

Santana nodded and reached over to squeeze Brittany's hand briefly.

\-----

It wasn't that Santana hated lying to Brittany. It was just…

Yeah, okay, Santana had grown to hate lying to Brittany.

All Santana knew was that it was nearly 6:30 and she was sitting in Quinn's car on their way to Puck's. She hadn't really want to hang out with Quinn today, but had been unable to come up with an excuse when Quinn had approached her, and she needed Puck to drive her back to Brittany's; she wasn't ready for Quinn to know the situation.

"So," Quinn said, trying to make casual conversation with Santana, who was extremely cranky. "Has the nerd taken you back on yet?"

Santana figured it couldn't hurt to tell Quinn that much. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. She was really cool about it, too."

"You're welcome," Quinn muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Congratulations."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks." Then, Santana remembered what Brittany had asked her the night before. "Hey, I meant to ask you…how do you know where Brittany lives?" Santana knew that Brittany liked to keep things like her address and her phone number on a strict need-to-know-unless-you're-Rachel-Kurt-or-Mike basis.

"Wh…what?" Quinn's eyes darted from the road to Santana and back again nervously. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." Now Santana was really confused. "That's odd." They pulled into Puck's driveway. "She asked me how you knew. I just figured…" She trailed off.

"Did she now?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Santana said. She unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car. She stuck her head into the open window. "But don't worry about it. I'll sort it out."

Quinn hummed in response. "Yeah. Hey, look, I've got some important stuff to do, so I gotta run."

"Um, okay?" Santana backed away from the car.

She watched as Quinn peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing. Quinn seemed to have a lot of 'important' things occupying her time lately, and Santana wasn't sure what to think of her friend anymore.

Santana shook her head and headed up to the house.

\-----

The address was burned into Quinn's memory.

She'd only been to Brittany's once, but it was there, lurking in case she needed it again.

And she _did_ need it again.

She didn't bother to knock; the door was unlocked.

Brittany, who had been lounging on the couch in the entertainment room, pigging out on junk food and watching movies, jumped up from the couch when the door slammed against the opposite wall. Her basketball shorts swished around her surprisingly toned legs as she ran into the foyer. Her socked feet skidded to a halt when she saw Quinn.

"What are you doing here?" Brittany demanded, and the panic in her voice told Quinn that, this time, they were alone.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests?" Quinn sneered. "I just stopped by for a visit. A check up, you could say."

"You can't knock?"

Quinn was pissed, and she knew that it showed, so she actually had to commend Brittany for her bravery. "No, I can't." She started forward, prompting Brittany to back towards the banister, and stopped to speak. "I thought we had an unspoken agreement."

"What are you talking about?" Brittany's heart raced. "I'm tutoring Santana again. That's what you wanted and you got it."

Quinn lunged forward and pinned Brittany to the banister. "That's not what I'm talking about!" She barked. The color drained from Brittany's cheeks.

Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but could only emit a squeak. Quinn even _smelled_ angry and Brittany knew that she'd spend the rest of her likely short life trying to figure out how Quinn managed to pull that off.

"You told Santana that I was here on Saturday," Quinn said lowly, her nose bumping Brittany's.

"I…" Brittany swallowed, wishing to just disappear. She'd never been in a fight; she fancied herself a lover, really. "I didn’t, I-"

"You asked Santana how I knew where you live." Quinn slammed her hand against the baluster closest to Brittany's face. "Didn't you?"

Brittany flinched and tried to slink away from Quinn's hand. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She was alone. No one was going to casually walk in and save her this time. "I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to!"

Quinn took the straps of Brittany's tank top in her hands and spun the taller girl around. When Brittany, stumbling and unsteady because of her slick socks, wasn't against the banister anymore, Quinn shoved her chest hard, sending Brittany down. Brittany's feet slid out from under her and her back met the hardwood floor. "For someone with such a high IQ," Quinn said. Brittany held her lower back and hissed in pain. There would definitely be a bruise. "You're not very smart."

"Quinn," Brittany whined through gritted teeth. The front door was still open, and now would be the perfect time for her mom – or even Santana – to walk through it. "What do you want from me?"

Quinn towered over Brittany's cowering frame. "I want you to suffer."

Brittany gaped. "But I haven't _done_ anything!"

Quinn dropped to straddle Brittany, and Brittany fought against her. "You exist," Quinn grunted simply. "That's enough."

"God," Brittany growled, struggling harder against the hands gripping at her as her brain told her that, holy shit, this was going to happen. She was actually going to be beaten to death _right here_ , in her own foyer. "Why do you always have to be such a bitch?"

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Quinn screeched, a god awful sound that sliced through the air and made Brittany's hands fly to her ears. Quinn's hands left Brittany's hair where they had been trying to gain control over the girl beneath her. One reclaimed Brittany's tank top strap, the other drew back and balled into a fist.

Brittany squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away as the fist hurtled towards it.

\-----

Puck's mom and stepdad were surprised that he and Santana had 'broken up'.

They were not, however, surprised to find out that he was gay.

Apparently they'd known for ages, and were just waiting for him to admit it. And they were 100% okay with it.

"I hate you." Santana sulked in the passenger seat. Everyone had amazing parents. Everyone but her.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea they'd be so cool," Puck admitted. "I actually expected my stepdad to come at me or something."

"I just wish you would have waited until I was there," Santana said solemnly. "It would have been nice to witness some decent parenting for once." After the shipwreck that was her own impromptu coming out, Santana just needed to know that there really were open minded parents.

Maybe it would restore her dwindling faith in humanity.

"I didn't even really mean to," Puck said. "I just…I wanted to be able to bring Kurt to my house when the time came, you know?"

Puck pulled onto Brittany's street, and Santana asked, "How are things with Porcelain, then?"

A goofy smile split Puck's face. "They're really good actually. We-"

Santana held up a hand. "Ugh, okay _anything_ past that is gushing, and that's just gross."

Puck punched her shoulder. "Bitch."

"You love me."

"There's no proof of that." Puck turned into Brittany's drive way and Santana sat up straighter. 

"Isn't that Quinn's car?"

"Considering that she's the only one in this town with a fuckin' Viper?" Puck asked rhetorically. "And the front door is wide open."

Realization hit Santana hard as she remembered how strangely Quinn had been acting lately, especially when it came to Brittany. "Brittany asked me," Santana said breathlessly. Puck threw the jeep into park and killed the engine. "She fucking asked me. Why didn't I realize? Shit, shit, shit!"

"Quinn asked me for the address," Puck said, apparently as aware as Santana, as they climbed out hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

They broke into a run as a primal screech pierced the air. Santana beat Puck to the porch and she took the steps two at a time. She could see Quinn, pinning Brittany to the floor, raising her fist; Santana's heart pounded almost painfully.

She couldn't let this happen.

She had to stop Quinn.

Santana reached her just as her fist came down. Her left hand wrapped around Quinn's wrist, her right arm around Quinn's neck, and she hauled Quinn off of Brittany and threw her to the floor.

Brittany's eyes, shining with frightened tears, opened slowly as the weight of Quinn left her torso. They found Santana, and Brittany allowed herself to breathe again.

Santana, however, was angry. From the corner of her eye, she could see Puck round her and gently pick Brittany up so that she was standing on violently trembling legs. He pulled her to him and cradled her head to his chest as her tears finally fell, soaking his gray shirt.

"Quinn, what the fuck?" Santana spat as Quinn picked herself up off the floor. "What are you doing?"

"C'mon, Santana," Quinn insisted, gesturing wildly towards Brittany with her hands. "She makes everyone miserable. You can't tell me you haven't wanted to fuck her face up!"

Santana gaped at Quinn; behind her, Brittany's sob was muffled by Puck's chest.

"No, Quinn," Santana said, pointing her finger at Quinn. " _You_ make everyone miserable."

Puck snorted loudly, and Santana thought that she even heard Brittany emit a small giggle.

"Santana, you-"

"No!" Santana yelled, stepping dangerously close to Quinn. "Yeah, okay, I hated her in the past, for reasons that half of the people in this room will not understand. But she's not _that_ bad."

"Santana," Puck warned softly. She held up a hand to tell him that she understood that she very nearly crossed a line there.

"Santana-"

"Shut the fuck up, Q," Santana hissed. "Do you even realize what she's doing for me? Do you?"

Santana could feel her anger bubbling, just under the surface, but no matter how loud she yelled, how hard her hands flailed, she didn't feel better. She was all for terrorizing people, but hurting them in their own home? There was a line, and Quinn had gunned her stupid Viper right through it.

"San-"

"My mother kicked me out last night." Her voice broke and she could feel her face heat up; whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, Santana didn't know. Either way, she kept going. "She kicked me out, and after everything I've put Brittany through, she offered to let me stay here! Not to mention she's trying to help me graduate!"

"Santana, you could have come to me," Quinn stressed, her face turning a bright red. " _I'm_ your best friend! And I offered to help you with dance!"

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, you who calls running around like a headless chicken dancing!"

"Excuse me?" Quinn gaped. "Watch your mouth or you'll never hold a pompom again, Lopez!"

"Do you really think I give a fuck about cheerleading, Quinn?" Both girls took a step forward, getting nose-to-nose. "The _only_ thing cheerleading was good for was getting me out of the house and away from my psychotic mother! I don't have to worry about that anymore, and there are plenty of other ways for me to get into college."

"I hear whoring yourself out to the Dean of Admissions doesn't work too well these days."

A loud _thwack_ resonated, so intrusive in the quiet foyer that it made Puck, who had watched it happen, jump. Santana pushed Quinn, who was cradling her right eye, out the door.

"Get the fuck out, Quinn." Quinn stumbled down the steps, nearly face-planting on the last one, and turned to look at Santana. "You can't open your eyes. You can't see the good in people. And until you can grow up, you've lost the only real friend you've ever had."

Santana slammed the door, leaving Quinn in the dark, and took a deep breath. Punching Quinn had lifted her spirits a little, but there was still so much that needed to be said. She rounded on Puck and Brittany. Puck was all but holding Brittany up, and Brittany was watching her with wide, wet eyes.

Santana pointed her finger at Brittany harshly and approached quickly. "You," she said. Brittany looked like all she wanted was for Puck to absorb her so she could disappear. "Why the fuck did you let her in?"

"Santana," Puck said. "I don't think-"

"Puck, go home."

"Santana-"

"Go. Home."

Puck pressed his lips into a thin line. He made sure that Brittany could stand on her own before releasing her, and ventured over to wrap his hands around Santana's biceps. "You need to chill," he whispered. "It's not her fault that she was attacked."

Santana nodded curtly, and pulled away from him. "I'll call you."

Puck sighed and kissed her forehead.

She waited until the door had snapped shut to ask again.

"Why did you let her in?" Her voice was still unnecessarily loud, but she couldn't bring herself to care when Brittany jumped.

Brittany crossed her arms tighter. "I…I didn't. She didn't knock. She just came in."

"So you just left the door unlocked?" Brittany nodded. "You do that on a regular basis, or…"

"I left it unlocked so you could get in," Brittany said meekly. "In case you were going to be later than you said."

At the admission, Santana's stomach fluttered and she closed her eyes, trying to force herself to calm down. "Just…why didn't you fight her back?"

"She's strong and-"

"Oh, bullshit," Santana snapped. "So are you!" Brittany's eyes darted and Santana could see that she was seconds from crying again. "You've lifted my fat ass off of the floor, I know you could have fought Quinn off of you!"

"You're not-"

"Not the point!"

"Why are you mad at me?" Brittany asked weakly. "I didn't do anything."

"That's why I'm mad at you!" Santana yelled. "Quinn, a person that you know hates you, enters your house without permission and threatens to basically end you, and you don't. Do. Anything! What if she had had a knife? Or a gun? Huh?" Brittany shrugged. "Fucking _stand up_ for yourself!" She strode over and violently shoved Brittany against the wall. "C'mon, I know you've got some fight in you somewhere!"

Brittany was finally getting angry, finally feeling the emotions that she should have felt when Quinn burst into her home unwelcomed, and a burst of pride filled Santana's chest.

"See?" Santana said, repeatedly slapping Brittany lightly on each of her cheeks. "You're gettin' mad now, huh? Yeah, you're gettin' real mad."

"Stop," Brittany said. She tried to turn her head away, tried to shield her face and swat Santana's hands away, but they only sped up, slapping at Brittany's face harder. Brittany knew what Santana was trying to do, and as much as she didn't want to, she was quickly losing her temper. "Santana, stop." Santana only quickened her pace, panting heavily. By now, Brittany was half crouching, shielding her head as best she could from the blows coming from all sides. Then, something in her snapped. Maybe it was the sting of the hits, or the quietly murmured 'pathetic' that she knew was intended to make her snap; whatever it was, Brittany broke. She stood up straight and wrapped her hands around Santana's neck, driving her backwards and into the table behind her. Brittany let out a growl as Santana's lower back hit the edge of the table.

"Fucking stop!" Over a decade of pent up pain and anger surfaced, boiling over and making her see red. She balled her hand into a fist and swung blindly, catching Santana's jaw. The force made Brittany stumble, and she landed on the floor, sobbing again.

Santana leaned on her elbows on the table and cradled her jaw and lower back, not quite sure which one hurt worse. She had counted on getting hit, yes, but she had not counted on Brittany having such a powerful right hook. And she had not expected _so much_ anger to be behind it. Santana had no idea Brittany would put all of her suffering into that single hit. But Santana regretted nothing; Brittany needed that. She needed to learn to stand up for herself. From the floor, Brittany sniffed. "Brittany-"

"Why are you so embarrassed to be living with me?"

It surprised Santana, mainly because she had _just_ told Quinn the deal right in front of Brittany. "What?" She flexed her jaw a few times. "I'm not."

Brittany sobbed around a scoff. "Oh, please. You didn't even want to show up to school with me this morning. And you didn't want to come back here with me to get my contacts. My vision was blurry, but I could still see you looking for Puck. I get it, okay? You hate me and would rather have gone to Quinn's, but-"

"Don't you think that if I had wanted to be with Quinn, I would have gone there last night instead of coming here?" Santana asked. She crouched down in front of Brittany and took Brittany's hand in hers. "It's not you. I'm not embarrassed by you. It's the situation."

Brittany snorted and wiped her face with the back of her free hand. "Yeah, the living with me situation."

"No, the being kicked out situation," Santana said. "You don't understand how embarrassing it is, people knowing that your father willing walked away, gave you up without a fight, and never bothers to make contact. And when your mother does the same? It's an unbearable feeling; it hurts and it's embarrassing. That's why I didn't want to go to school with you this morning. There would have been too many questions, and I wasn't prepared to deal with them."

Brittany was silent, mulling over Santana's words. Then, she shrugged. "My dad's dead."

Though the statement was a heavy one, Santana knew it was a feeble attempt at humor to lighten the situation. She laughed lowly. "Yeah, but to be fair everyone thinks he's an astronaut."

"Oh. I thought that was just another rumor people made up to be mean. Like…to make _space case_ jokes or something."

Santana laughed lightly and shook her head. "Nope," She said. She stood and extended a hand to pull Brittany up too. "It's legitimate speculation." Once she was sure Brittany could stand, Santana continued. "Is this the first time Quinn's done this?"

Reluctantly, Brittany shook her head. "She threatened me through Rachel a couple of weeks ago, and she was here Saturday. She told me to start tutoring you again. Or else."

"Brittany, if you don't want to tutor me, I-"

"No, I'm not tutoring you because she told me to." Brittany wrung her hands. "I wasn't going to tutor you again. You hurt me a lot. But…then you apologized, and you were so sweet and…and…how could I say no to you?"

Santana smiled and took Brittany's hand tightly, but kept quiet because she could tell there was more.

"And she, uh…" Brittany gestured to her eyes, drawing a vague impression of glasses with her finger.

Santana gasped. "I knew those fuckers were too broken to have just been dropped!"

"No, no!" Brittany said hurriedly, seeing that Santana was getting pissed all over again. "You know what? Seeing you punch her…that made up for it. I have my contacts, so I'll be okay."

"Just promise me…" Santana trailed off, searching for the words. This was supposed to be an inspirational speech, one that would will Brittany to stand up for herself. "Just start standing up for yourself. You have a sharp tongue; use it!"

The air became thick, and Brittany became jittery again. Before Santana could question the girl, Brittany had stepped forward, her hand cupping Santana's cheek, and leaned down. Her lips sought Santana's hungrily, and before Santana could register that she had two choices, kiss back or push Brittany off, Brittany's tongue was dipping past her lips without warning, exploring messily. Santana moaned, the intrusive sound pulling her away from her bliss. She placed her free hand on Brittany's stomach and pushed her away gently, both of them breathing heavily.

"I…that's not what I meant." Santana pulled her free hand from Brittany's grasp and stepped away, smoothing her hair from her face. She took a deep, shaky breath. Composure didn't come easily; she'd kissed a total of three people before Brittany (one of those people being Puck), and while they were all good in their own sense, _none_ of them had elicited the feelings (or the noises) from her that Brittany just had. And that scared her.

"I…uh…" Brittany rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. "I'm sorry. I just…"

Santana nodded, even knowing that Brittany was looking in a completely different direction and wouldn't see her. "Yeah, uh…let's just…forget that happened."

Brittany swallowed visibly and nodded. "Right."

Santana started up the stairs on quaking, Brittany right behind her, and said, "You know, considering the past two days, I think we both deserve to skip school tomorrow." She didn't expect Brittany, who was so into her academics, to agree, so the blonde's noise of approval shocked her. "You think so?"

"I don't want to see Quinn's face."

"Point taken."

\-----

Another tear hit her pillow.

Puck was the only one left. And, in a way, she had lost him too.

Her father left, her mother abandoned her, and now she'd lost Quinn. All she had was Puck, and really, what was keeping him around?

Santana turned her face to muffle the sob that she couldn't hold back. She'd never felt more alone.

A tap on her shoulder made Santana look over. Brittany was on her back, holding her blanket up invitingly. Santana didn't hesitate to throw her own blanket off and slip under Brittany's. Brittany dropped the blanket and wrapped her arms around Santana tightly. Santana laid her head on Brittany's chest and focused on her heartbeat. 

"If it's any consolation," Brittany mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "I know you're not a whore."

Santana sighed. Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where that whole forgiving your bully thing comes into play. And a lot of school skipping. Also, yes I did throw the hot dentist in there, thanks for asking. And I know absolutely nothing about stars other than the tiny bit of research I did.

Rachel waited by Brittany's locker until the first bell for classes rang. At that point, she was forced to accept that, for the first time since seventh grade – when she and Lord Tubbington had gotten lost in the sewers for a week – Brittany wasn't coming to school.

Rachel's hands began to shake as she scanned the crowd for Santana. If Brittany was missing school, something was terribly wrong; since she and Santana seemed pretty close lately, Rachel figured that Santana would be the best person to question.

Or did like them.

It was all very confusing to Rachel at the moment.

But…that was odd.

Santana was missing too.

Rachel tried to breathe normally as she thought. There had to be a logical explanation as to why two of her closest friends, Brittany _and_ Kurt, were missing, as were the two people that didn't like them, Santana and Puck.

Maybe Puck and Santana were off in a random janitor's closet, fucking like bunnies. And maybe Kurt and Brittany had just gotten sick at the same time.

Except Puck and Santana had officially broken up Monday morning. And Brittany _never_ got sick.

Rachel took a deep breath. She spotted Quinn down the hallway, sagging rather miserably into her locker. Quinn knew Santana better than anyone – except Puck – and Rachel just had a feeling that the key to finding Brittany and making sure that she was okay was finding Santana.

And to find Santana, Rachel had to somehow get Quinn to talk with her civilly.

_Darn_.

Rachel sucked in another breath and took long, purposeful strides towards Quinn. It was a simple question. No matter how nasty Quinn was, no matter Rachel's crushing feelings, she could do this.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "Quinn, may I have a word?"

Rachel expected a smart remark, but the only indication that Quinn had even heard her was the brief, almost non-existent, movement of her eyes from her books to Rachel. Rachel decided to take it as a good sign.

"I just…" Rachel paused and huffed. Quinn was never this quiet under any circumstances. It was throwing Rachel off. It just wasn't _Quinn_. "I was wondering if you'd seen Santana. Because Brittany is missing and-"

"Rachel…" Quinn interrupted quietly, turning to Rachel slowly. Rachel gasped and reflexively took half a step back; Quinn hadn't referred to her by her first name is such a long time.

Something must have been terribly wrong in the world.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"I…" Quinn swallowed and looked down and away. "I did a bad thing."

Above them, the late bell rang.

\-----

"I'm sorry I hit you."

Santana hugged Brittany closer to her at the quiet words. She'd never imagined that waking up with someone - especially Brittany - every morning could feel this...amazing. Even though she wasn't sure where she stood anymore, Santana felt so…loved.

Brittany's hand massaged her scalp. "Don't apologize," Santana said. She hissed when Brittany's other hand left her hip to lightly graze smooth fingertips across her swollen, bruised jaw.

"But I hurt you," Brittany protested, her hand returning to pull Santana closer.

Santana rose up on her elbow to look at Brittany. "I provoked you," she said. "Don't apologize for something that's my fault."

Brittany nodded and Santana rolled off of the bed. She raised her hands above her head and stretched. Brittany turned onto her side to face Santana.

It was past ten, and Brittany was really enjoying the truancy aspect of their new friendship. She just wasn't sure how to explain that or Santana's purple jaw to her mother.

Come to think of it, Brittany wasn't exactly sure how to explain _Santana_ to her mother. Her mom would want to know what had happened, why Santana was exiled from her own home. Honesty was always the best policy, but how was she supposed to be honest when she didn't know the exact reason that Santana had been kicked out herself?

"So, are we dancing today?" Santana bent down to touch her toes.

"Mhm." Brittany's eyes travelled the curve of Santana's back, but snapped away when Santana stood straight. "If you want."

"I do." Santana gathered some clothes and her hairbrush from her bag. "Just let me shower first."

Santana lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down to lean over and tinker with the water temperature. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Puck's words out of her mind.

_Just give it some thought._

She'd thought about it until she'd fallen asleep the previous night, and to top it off she had dreamed about it. Then, no matter how hard she tried to tear her mind away and think of other things, her mind always went back to Puck's words.

_We both deserve to come out of high school happy._

Santana stepped into the shower and let the warm water flow over her. Puck had a point, as much as it pained her to admit it. After everything she'd been through, she deserved like hell to finally have some happiness in her life.

The only problem was that the first step to attaining that happiness was…well, getting Brittany to fall for her. And if she ever did get up the courage to make a move, there was absolutely no chance that, after everything, Brittany would reciprocate or even care.

Shifting from enemies to friends had been surprisingly easy; Santana figured that anything past that was probably going to get messy and complicated.

Santana sighed and, to take her mind off of everything, began to hum Tina Turner. Singing, humming…it all helped to calm her down in moments like these when she really began to over think things. Singing had been another privilege, another talent, which her mother had tried her hardest to suppress. To that woman, cheerleading had been it for Santana. Cheerleading was going to be her way to college. Cheerleading was going to be her way of living. There had been 'none of that singing business' in the Lopez household. But when her mother left the house, as she often liked to do, Santana would belt out tunes.

_Do I love you, my oh my_

Santana held up the narrow shampoo bottle to her lips, an improvised microphone.

_River deep, mountain high_

The shower was her stage, the rushing water her adoring audience, the fans that she loved.

_If I lost you, would I cry?  
Oh how I love you baby, bab-_

Santana stopped mid-lyric. She had momentarily forgotten that she wasn't at her house. She wasn't in her shower. And she definitely was not alone. She loved to sing, but she was damn self-conscious about it after having been denied the opportunity.

Santana looked up to the ceiling and let out an irritated huff. She knew she was going to love living with Brittany if she got the chance, but not being alone long enough to sing was going to be an inconvenience.

Santana turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

What was one more change?

\-----

She'd been heading downstairs when she'd heard it, a melodious rasp, growing in intensity with each word.

Brittany turned on her heel slowly and walked the few steps back to the bathroom. She pressed her ear to the door to listen to Santana's rendition of Tina Turner's _River Deep, Mountain High_. Her jaw slackened when Santana hit all of the high notes perfectly, making her stomach – and her heart – flutter strangely.

Then, suddenly, Santana stopped, mid-lyric, and Brittany held her breath, waiting to be caught. Had Santana sensed that she was lurking? Or, even scarier, would Santana be angry that Brittany had been intruding on what seemed to be a private moment? The shower turned off and Brittany decided to continue down the hall as opposed to being caught.

She started down the stairs. One thing was for certain, and that was that her once muddled feelings for Santana were beginning to become much clearer.

\------

Santana wrapped her towel around her dripping hair and walked down the hall to Brittany's room. She expected her friend – Santana had to pause; calling Brittany her friend was going to take some getting used to – to be perched on the bed, awaiting her turn in the shower, but the room was empty. Santana took a step back to look down the hall both ways, making sure Brittany was out of sight, before stepping back into the room and towards the tall, black bookcase.

Now that they were friends and growing closer, Santana found that she just wanted to know more about Brittany, her past, what made her _Brittany_. Which meant doing the one thing that she had been avoiding: getting a good look at Brittany's room.

In addition to the obvious multitude of books (some, Santana noted, were by her own personal favorite authors), there were frames and frames of pictures. Santana smiled, realizing that most of the pictures had Allie in them. There was one of Allie on Brittany's shoulders in the backyard. One of Brittany, sleeping with an infant Allie on her chest. There were several of the two of them at a zoo and an aquarium, and it appeared that the trip had just been for the two of them since the pictures seemed to have been taken by Brittany. There was one of Allie holding up a sign proclaiming _I <3 Brittany_. And there were even a few of the exterior of the Smithsonian.

Santana crossed the room to the CD/DVD rack. On the top were three pictures; one of Susan, April, Jeremy, and Allie, one of Rachel and Kurt hugging each other, and one of a tall, good-looking man giving a younger Brittany a piggy-back ride. Santana stepped closer to read the bold, black inscription at the bottom of the picture frame.

_Bryant Nathaniel Pierce_  
March 22, 1965 – June 14, 2007  
Rest in Peace 

Santana plucked the frame from the top of the shelf gingerly. Bryant's arms were hooked under Brittany's knees and her arms were slung tightly around his neck. His hair was light brown and he was clean shaven. In this picture, Brittany looked happier than Santana had ever seen her. Both of their mouths were thrown open in now-silent laughter, laughter that Brittany would never hear again.

Santana ran her fingers over Brittany's still form. The blonde was so happy, even as Santana was sure that she had done something to make her miserable earlier in the day. This man had been Brittany's entire world, just as Santana's dad had been hers. And this man had been cruelly ripped away from Brittany long before she was ready to let him go.

Santana wiped a tear from her eye; a sympathetic droplet shed for both of their losses, and sat the frame back on the shelf. She turned back to the shelves that she had been inspecting earlier, the ones with the numerous pictures of Allie. Brittany had been lucky. She had lost someone, yes, but through the pain she had been blessed with Allie, a big ray of sunshine in an otherwise black storm. It wasn't hard to tell that Allie was Brittany's world now, even before Santana had seen all of the photos.

Santana heaved a sigh and unwrapped her hair as she left the room. Brittany was lucky to have Allie, her beautiful niece, and, in turn, Allie was damn lucky to have Brittany. Maybe, through this friendship, Santana could be blessed with someone too. And maybe Santana could get what she always secretly wanted.

Santana balled up the towel and tossed it into the hamper as she passed the bathroom. She continued down the stairs, contemplating the 180 degree turn her personality had taken in just a few short days. Just a week ago, the mere thought of spending so much time with Brittany almost had her heaving. 

Now, it was all she wanted to do.

Santana entered the kitchen, expecting to see Brittany at the stove, frying the bacon that smelled so amazing. Instead, Susan greeted her with a dazzling smile and Santana panicked. This wasn't supposed to happen until tonight. And Susan probably would not react well to the two of them skipping school today.

"Good morning!" Susan quipped cheerfully. She pulled three plates from the cabinet and placed them in a stack on the table.

"Morning," Santana said. She looked behind her, into the entertainment room, up the stairs, towards the dance studio, expecting to see Brittany, but she was strangely absent. "Where's Brittany?"

Susan pulled silverware from a drawer. "Oh, I sent her to the store for some nonsensical items." She placed the cutlery atop the plates and then turned to give Santana her full attention. "I wanted to have a chance to talk to you one-on-one, uninterrupted."

Santana gulped and could feel the color fade from her cheeks. "O-okay."

"Mind setting the table while we talk?" Susan turned back to the frying pan and Santana dutifully began to arrange their plates. "So, Brittany has told me about your situation."

Santana laughed bitterly. "No beating around the bush, huh?" She heard Susan laugh, sounding so much like Brittany that it physically hurt Santana. "Yeah. Yeah, ol' lady Lopez kicked me out."

Susan turned off the stove and pushed the frying pan to the back burner so that she could focus on Santana. "Honey, I'm so sorry to hear that." She walked to Santana, her heels clicking, and wrapped her arms around Santana. Santana clung tightly to the back of Susan's dress as angry tears fell. She was glad Susan had sent Brittany away; she didn't want the girl to see her as a crying mess anymore. Susan pulled away, but kept a firm grip on Santana's shoulders, and Santana wiped her face with her hand.

"Sorry." Santana sniffed, noticing the tear stains on Susan's dress.

Susan ignored the apology. "You are more than welcome to stay here." She squeezed Santana's shoulders. "For as long as you need."

Santana smiled and her eyes began to tear up again. "Really?"

Susan released her shoulders and pulled a chair from under the table, gesturing for Santana to do the same. When they were both sitting, Susan said, "But there are things that need to be discussed."

"Interrogation time?" Santana joked.

Susan smiled. "Think of it as more like…an interview." Santana nodded. "As painful as it may be," Susan started, and Santana tensed. "I would like to know why it was that you were kicked out." Santana pressed her lips together and looked away. "I promise you, Santana, I am not trying to be nosey or judgmental; I need to know so that, whatever it is, be it drugs or alcohol or any of the like, Brittany and I can help you get past it."

Santana inhaled deeply, weighing her options. Telling the truth played in her favor, apparently. Santana didn't want a nice woman like Susan thinking that she was some drug addicted alcoholic from the streets. But then, what was Susan's stance on homosexuality? And how would she feel about someone like Santana being around Brittany, her daughter? Santana knew that some people came off as being okay with it until the thing they secretly feared was in their home, around their children. Santana nodded, amping herself up before speaking. "I'm gay."

Susan was silent as she tapped her chin with her index finger. Santana pressed her lips together again and cradled her forehead in her hand. _Way to fuck up. Way to go for totally homeless, dipshit. If it had just been drugs or alcohol, a little acting, and you'd be in and out of rehab in a couple of months and-_

"I'm sorry," Santana whispered. She looked back up to Susan with tears streaming down her face. "I…I thought honesty would be best, and…god, okay, I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry. I'll just…I'll get my stuff and-"

"Stop," Susan said, making Santana drop back into her seat. "Stop right there. You're a lesbian. That's who you are. Don't ever apologize for being who you are. Don't ever be ashamed." Susan blinked several times, and, to Santana's amazement, dabbed at her eyes. "And don't ever apologize for being able to be _honest_ about it. That's who you are."

Santana remained silent. She was unsure of what direction Susan was taking this conversation. She wiped her face dry with a loud sniff, but still could not fully meet Susan's eyes.

Susan continued. "I'm a doctor. Part of my job is to not judge people that I don't know; I try not to make it a habit in my daily life. But when I hear of stories like yours, I can't help but wonder what terrible person would… _could_ throw away their child for being their own person?

"All that I have ever asked of Brittany is that she be herself, and that she's honest with me. That's all." Santana nodded, hanging on every word Susan was saying. "And, since you are comfortable enough to be honest with me, a person that you barely know, I will now be honest with you. You've hurt my baby girl." Santana froze, her heart pounding. "Brittany has come home crying so many times because of you and that Fabray girl. When she was younger, she would cry every morning because she didn't want to go to school. And the end of the summer? That was the worst for her. But see?" She pointed to Santana's face, which had tears streaming down it again; she couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain Brittany had endured through the years because of her. "I see that you're sorry. I see that you regret what you've done. And I see that you're trying to make it better." Santana nodded vigorously, because dammit she was going to try her hardest to make things right. "You're a brave young woman. And I am not sending you out to fend for yourself just because you are a lesbian, sweetheart."

"Really?" Santana asked hopefully, breathlessly. "You…you really mean it?"

Susan reached across the table and took Santana's hands. "I will not punish you for being you."

Santana exhaled loudly, thankful that living arrangements were one less thing that she had to worry about. She felt lightheaded. She squeezed Susan's hands. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much. You won't regret me, I swear."

"Just tell me two things." Santana held her breath, waiting for one question she'd been dreading: _why are you sleeping in my daughter's bed_? "One, why aren't the two of you in school? I have all of the days that school is out marked on my calendar, and today is not one of those days."

Santana exhaled, thankful that Susan didn't seem to have a problem with her sharing Brittany's bed. She launched into the story of Quinn and how she'd been secretly terrorizing Brittany, about how she was at their house the week before, which Susan remembered. Santana told about how Quinn had broken Brittany's glasses – which Susan was furious about – and how Quinn had burst in uninvited the previous night and attacked Brittany, and how Puck and herself had only gotten back just in time.

Susan set her jaw angrily. "I'm going to have to talk to that girl about leaving that damn door unlocked." Santana shrugged. She wanted to stand up for Brittany, because the girl had only been thinking of her, but Susan already knew that. "So, what happened to your face?"

Santana was offended until she remembered her slightly purple jaw and how she'd gotten it. She told Susan about provoking Brittany to hit her. "I just wanted her to stand up for herself," Santana explained desperately. "She just…she had all of these pent up emotions after Quinn left, and it's not good for her to hold that in."

Susan finally raised an eyebrow and pointed to Santana's jaw. "My daughter did that?" Santana nodded, and wanted to reiterate that it _wasn't_ Brittany's fault, but a proud smile slowly slid onto Susan's face. "She gets that arm from her father."

"He would be proud." Santana hadn't known Bryant Nathaniel Pierce, but, somehow, she just knew. "He'd be proud of how strong she is in general. He would be _so_ proud."

Susan opened her mouth to reply, but the front door had suddenly burst open and Brittany was calling, "A little _help_ would be nice!"

Santana was the first out of the kitchen. She dug through the pile of paper grocery bags in Brittany's arms until Brittany's beaming face came into view. "Well, hey."

Santana laughed as Susan took the rest of the bags from Brittany. "Hey, yourself, spaz."

Brittany grinned and took two of Santana's bags back. She leaned in close. "Everything okay?"

Santana looked into the kitchen where Susan was unpacking the bags; she smiled and looked back to Brittany. "Everything's perfect." Brittany's smile grew. "But, a word of warning, you might want to start locking doors. She's not too happy, if you know what I mean."

"You told her that?"

Santana shrugged. "She wanted to know why we weren't in school."

"Crap," Brittany groaned.

They made their way to the kitchen. Brittany seemed terrified that Susan would yell at her for the events of the previous night, but her mother had moved on to a more current subject. "Brittany Susan Pierce!" Her appalled voice rang out making Brittany jump. "I gave you a _list_!"

"I got everything on it!" Brittany tried to defend herself. "I just…got a little distracted."

Susan reached deep into the bag on the table and produced a handful of bags of gummy worms. She cocked an eyebrow.

"It's your fault for sending me to the store hungry."

Susan scoffed and took Santana's bags to rifle through them. Brittany and Santana stood in silence as Susan produced bag after bag of junk food; Cheetos, Doritos, a jar of nacho cheese, microwave pizzas, Snickers.

Finally, Susan looked up. "I asked you to bring change back."

Brittany dug in her pocket and pulled out two pennies, a nickel, and a dime and placed them in Susan's outstretched hand with a painfully straight face.

Finally, Susan hung her head and laughed. "Child, I don't understand how you can eat like this and still look the way you do." She looked at Santana. "One burrito and I gain five pounds!"

"Mom, we've been over this before," Brittany said seriously, as though talking to a child. She subtly slipped an arm around Santana's waist for a quick side-hug. "It's because I'm _awesome_."

Susan began putting all of the food that didn't fall into the 'junk' category into the cabinets and refrigerator. She blindly shook a finger in their direction. "One day, all of that _awesome_ is going to catch up to you, and I'll get to say that I told you so."

Brittany made a face at Santana, but let the junk food subject die. "Are you gonna be home tonight, mom?" She asked hopefully.

Susan pulled a chair from under the table and sat to read the paper. "Afraid not." Brittany's smile dropped and Santana swore that the happiness had actually been zapped from the room. "I have a date."

"Oh." Brittany seemed to be fighting tears and Santana took her hand tightly, hoping to alleviate whatever was suddenly troubling her. "Right." Brittany squeezed her hand. "Carl. Right. Well, Santana and I are gonna head down and do a little dancing." She tugged Santana's hand for her to follow.

"Oh, Brittany?" Susan called over the rim of her coffee cup, suddenly looking very solemn. "Whether you attend school tomorrow is up to the two of you; I trust your judgment." Brittany pressed her lips together tightly and nodded. She turned on her heel to leave, but Susan stopped them again. "Brittany? Love you."

Brittany smiled weakly. "Love you, too, mom."

\-----

Brittany had gone back to Ms. Pillsbury during lunch the previous day – and, subsequently, had not been able to eat lunch again due to the woman's excessive questions about why Mike had backed out. Santana sat across from Brittany on the dance studio floor, inspecting her nails – and occasionally Brittany, but whatever – as Brittany looked over their newest notes.

"So, what's the damage?" Santana ran her finger over a chipped nail and scowled at it unhappily.

Brittany huffed and threw the unorganized handful of papers into the space between them. "She's added a bunch of new stuff since I took this class," she said, bewildered. She shuffled through the papers until she found one with a long bulleted list. She laid the paper flat and placed her finger under the fourth bullet point. "Below here…it's all new."

Horrified, Santana eyed the long list. "This is bad…right?" She swallowed harshly.

Brittany stood and held her hands out to help Santana up. "Well, it's not _bad_." Santana took her hands and, once she was standing, sighed in defeat. "Hey, no, don't do that. You're going to get through this. I promise." She took Santana's hand again.

Santana untangled every finger but their pinkies. "Pinky promise?"

Brittany rolled her eyes affectionately and squeezed Santana's pinky. "Pinky promise."

\-----

Brittany decided to try an exercise that Santana couldn't believe that she was actually enjoying. All she was doing was trying to mimic Brittany's intricate steps as accurately as possible, but it was _fun_ , and Santana was disappointed when Susan came down to tell Brittany that Kurt was on the phone.

Brittany listened to Kurt wordlessly for well over five minutes before cupping the mouth piece. "Cool with you if Kurt hangs here for a few tonight?" She asked Santana.

A goofy smile spread across Santana's face and she nodded. It wasn't so much that she cared either way about Hummel's presence – truthfully, she'd rather he weren't there so she'd have more time alone with Brittany, but whatever. It was that Brittany had asked her how she felt about the arrangement. She hadn't invited Kurt and then informed Santana that a gathering was happening. She had deliberately asked beforehand. Santana had only been technically living with her for a few hours, but Brittany was already making strides to make her feel at home.

It was really the little things that mattered.

Brittany talked for a few minutes longer (after affirming that Kurt – and Rachel, possibly – would arrive around five, and that, yes, he would be thoroughly informed as to why they were absent from school).

"Does Glee Club not meet up today?" Santana asked after Brittany had hung up. She grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and rubbed it on her shirt.

Brittany pointed to the apple. "First off, that's plastic." Just about to bite into the 'apple', Santana's face fell. She put the decorative apple back, eyeing it warily. "And Kurt said he was skipping the meeting today. He said he'll check with Rachel, but you know how she is, so she may not be around until after six."

"So. What do we do for the next few hours?" Santana's gaze averted to the pile of junk food still on the table.

Brittany smirked and scooped everything into her arms. "You read my mind."

Santana blindly picked a movie and, with Susan doing some work in her office, the two ended up sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, their stash of treats tucked safely into the space between them for easy sharing.

Right before the credits on their second movie rolled, the doorbell chimed and Brittany, dragging Santana behind her, bounded to open it. Brittany stopped short of hugging Kurt when she noticed two large duffel bags at his feet and Puck, carrying two more duffels, coming up the stairs.

"I brought Puck." Puck dropped the bags behind the others gently and placed his hand on the small of Kurt's back, and Kurt's smile grew. "I hope that's okay."

"Uh, yeah, that's totally fine." Brittany waved lamely at Puck, remembering that he'd been there the night before, holding her steady on her feet. Puck waved back, then stuck his tongue out and wiggled it suggestively at Santana, who just made a disgusted face and threw up her middle finger in return. "Guys, I don't know how to tell you this, but my mom was cool with Santana moving in; I don't think she'd be okay with this." She gestured towards their bags.

Kurt clapped his hands together merrily. "That's why I brought Puck. He has a surprise for Santana."

"Well, babe, you helped," Puck protested quietly. "I think you deserve credit too."

"But, hun, it was your idea, and-"

"Okay, ew," Santana interrupted, holding her hand out. "You two can get married _after_ you tell me what this is. I mean…did you murder ol' lady Lopez, cut her up, and stuff her in these? 'Cause I don't want her."

Kurt placed a hand on his chest, and it looked to Santana like he was trying to hold in a gag. "Oh my god that is so dark." Santana shrugged.

Puck ignored both of them and hefted each bag past them and into the foyer as he explained. "Santana, these bags contain all of your shit. Clothes, bedding…you name it, if it was movable, it's there. And there are a couple more in the car."

Santana's jaw dropped as Puck unzipped each bag, revealing more and more of her stuff. "But…how?"

"Kurt and I met up at school." Kurt wrapped his arms around Puck's waist from the side and grinned. "We stayed long enough for homeroom, so we wouldn't be counted absent. Then we left and went to the witch's lair. I picked the lock and Kurt bypassed the security code. We just grabbed everything that would fit into these cheap-ass bags and hauled it out of there."

"Um, I don't mean to be a downer here, but won't this…I don't know, get _me_ into trouble?" Santana asked, her eyes going wide. "Oh my god what if she calls the po-po on me for breaking and entering and theft." She began to panic, and Brittany grabbed her elbow worriedly.

"Okay first of all calm the fuck down." Puck rolled his eyes, letting her know just how dramatic he thought that she was being, and tightened his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "You have a key, it wouldn't be breaking and entering. Second, chances are she'll never be sober enough to notice, anyway."

Santana released a tense breath, then nodded to Brittany to let her know that she was okay. Brittany stroked her thumb over Santana's elbow once more before slowly letting go. Santana shifted her gaze to Kurt and tears formed in her eyes. "You…you did this? For me? After everything I've said to you?"

Kurt released Puck and opened his arms for Santana to fall into. "Brittany trusts you. So I trust you," he whispered simply into her hair.

"Thank you," she breathed, then sniffled. "Thank you so much."

"Okay. Now I feel that this is excessive," Puck said, gesturing to the two of them. "A hug is a hug, but now you're just feeling him up."

"If you like it, you should have put a ring on it," Santana bit back, smiling because she knew that Puck couldn't see her.

"I kinda did, though," Puck protested. "But, I mean, if you want him, you take him and I'll take Brittany." He pulled Brittany, who had been observing quietly, towards him and enveloped her in his arms from behind so that she couldn't move, and she squeaked. "I guaran-damn-tee he'll break before I will and he'll beg you to let him-"

"Wait, you put a ring on it?" Santana asked, interrupting Puck, her brain finally catching up to the conversation. She pulled away from Kurt. Kurt nodded. He held up his right hand where the class ring that Puck's mom had bought him was hanging rather loosely from his thumb. At the same time, Puck held up his left pinky where Kurt's class ring was jammed tightly.

"We exchanged," Kurt said proudly. "But his is too big for me, and mine is too small for him-"

"That's what she said," Brittany piped up. Santana smiled fondly at Brittany, who tried her best to shrug around Puck's strong grip.

Kurt continued, seemingly unfazed by Brittany's outburst. "So, we're getting chains so that we can wear them as necklaces."

"I know it's…soon," Puck chimed in. He released Brittany and wrapped his arm back around Kurt. "But I confessed everything to him and it just…happened. I'm done caring what everyone at school thinks. I mean, you of all people know how long I've been in love with him." Brittany 'aww'd, making Kurt's cheeks flush.

"It's about time," Santana said. "Thank you. For all of this. I seriously owe you." Puck smirked and tilted his head towards Brittany. Santana would have been angry, but, thankfully, Brittany was too busy zipping all of the bags back up to be moved upstairs to see him. "You're lucky I love your stupid ass."

Puck smiled and grabbed two bags. "So, am I allowed to stay, or is this going to be a little girly gossip fest?" He asked Brittany as the two of them climbed the stairs. "Because I may be gay, but I want _no_ part of that."

Brittany laughed and glanced down to where Kurt and Santana were stepping out to get the bags, and the fact that Santana was glancing up at her didn't escape her. "You're more than welcome to stay. We'll probably just order some pizza, watch some movies, the usual."

"Sounds like a sweet deal. Puckzilla's in," Puck said, and Brittany scrunched her nose at the nickname he'd given himself.

They dropped the bags onto Brittany's bedroom floor. "Well, it's the least I could do. You've done a lot for us the past few days."

Puck stepped aside, in true gentleman fashion, and allowed Brittany to exit ahead of him. "Look," he said quietly as they made their way back down the hall. "Santana really lov-…Santana likes spending time with you. More than she thought she would. And last night, when we pulled up and she realized what was happening, it was almost like her entire world had ended. You should have seen how scared she was, Brittany. I've never seen her like that before. Anyone that can bring that out of Santana deserves all of the nicest things a guy like me can offer."

Brittany smiled, but only got as far as 'thank you' before Kurt and Santana were thumping up the stairs, struggling under their two bags. Puck gave Brittany a light affectionate punch to the shoulder, and they rushed over to help.

Later, the group settled in the entertainment room. Brittany and Kurt watched as Santana and Puck played _Halo_ and cursed angrily at each other ("Puck! Stop shooting me with – _ARGH_ I'm on your team asshole!"). Puck and Santana watched as Brittany and Kurt played _DDR_ and cursed angrily at each other ("You're gonna fall on your damn face, Pierce!" "You have two left feet, Hummel. If anyone's falling it's…well, _fuck_!"). Around six-thirty, the doorbell rang again and, expecting Rachel, Brittany bounded to the door, once again dragging Santana.

Rachel, however, was not waiting on the other side.

"Oh, hey," Brittany said, probably sounded more dejected than she should have considering that this ruggedly handsome man was her mother's date. "Mom's upstairs. She'll probably be down in a minute."

"Ah," he said with a smile, waving dismissively towards the top of the stairs. "Let her take her time. It's been a while; how have you been kiddo?" He punched the air in front of Brittany's abdomen several times, much like a father bonding with his son would.

Brittany looked anything but amused.

"Jeez, kid, who died."

Brittany bit her lip and looked away.

"Oh…no, I'm sorry," he said quickly, gesturing around helplessly with his hands. Santana could tell by this man's obvious desperation that he wasn't new and that he'd been trying for a while – possibly years – to get Brittany to like him. Or to at least accept his presence. "I didn't mean-"

"Its fine," Brittany said through clenched teeth.

He deflated and turned away. "Well, who are your new friends? I know Kurt, but…"

"That's Puck. He's Kurt's boyfriend." Brittany grabbed Santana's elbow briefly, almost affectionately. "This is Santana. She lives here now."

"Well, Santana," he said. He stepped between them and stretched his hand out for Santana to take; Santana hesitated, but reluctantly placed her hand in his. "Ah, nice firm grip. I like that. Carl Howell, D.D.S." Behind him, Santana swore she saw Brittany gag.

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you," Santana lied. She couldn't really see anything wrong with this man other than his slightly creepy flirtatiousness and his obvious lack of tactical sensitivity, but Brittany didn't like him. That had to mean something, right? "Santana Lopez. Er…student."

"Lopez?" He asked curiously. "You're Maribel Lopez's daughter, aren't you? Boy, she came in with a gnarly chipped tooth about a year ago. Needed some serious-"

Santana crossed her arms. Well. So much for that. "Maribel Lopez was never a mother to me." Carl drew his eyebrows together. "And for the record, she got that _gnarly_ chipped tooth when she hit her mouth on the head board while doing the nasty with her fuck buddy of the night."

Carl was speechless and Brittany couldn't help the snort that emitted from her. Lucky for him, Susan came strutting (fucking flawlessly, Santana noted) down the stairs and looped her arm through Carl's. "Carl, I see you've met the newest addition to our family." She smiled first at Carl, then at Santana and Brittany.

"Yeah." Carl forced a smile and allowed Susan to pull him to the door. "It was a, uh…pleasure."

"Brittany I left phone numbers of where we'll be on the fridge. Bye, everyone!"

"Bye, Ms. Pierce!" Puck called.

"Bye, Susan!" Santana and Kurt said simultaneously.

"Bye, mom," Brittany whispered.

Santana took Brittany by the wrist and stepped closer. "You okay?"

Brittany looked down at Santana's hand. "He's…"

"What?" Santana persisted. "He's what, Brittany?"

"He's not my dad."

Santana ran her fingernails halfway up the inside of Brittany's arm and back down to take her hand. Brittany felt like this man was here to replace Bryant, Brittany's father. The way Carl was trying so hard, Brittany couldn't be blamed for feeling that way. Brittany probably felt that it was way too early for Susan to move on when she herself still seemed to be grieving.

"She deserves to be happy," Santana said, because Carl and Susan seemed to adore each other, and that was better than Susan having a bunch of dangerous men in the house for drunken one night stands. Despite Brittany's sour attitude, Carl was _trying_ , and that meant something. Brittany actually looked ashamed. "I mean…it's okay for you to feel the way that you do. As long as you recognize that he makes her happy. And she deserves that."

Brittany nodded slowly. Santana stood on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck. Brittany hugged her tightly and inhaled deeply, calming herself down. Behind them, the door opened and they released each other in time to see Rachel edging her way in.

"I ran into your mom outside," she said quietly. "She told me that I could just come in." She fiddled with her fingers awkwardly, and Santana sensed that she was about to say something that neither she nor Brittany was going to like. "I, uh…Quinn told me what she did."

"You talked to Quinn?"

Rachel recoiled from Santana's angry outburst. "I was worried about Brittany. Both of you were absent, and I couldn't find Kurt or Noah. My last resort was Quinn. She told me what she did." Rachel stepped forward and touched Brittany's arm. "I'm sorry that you had to endure that."

Brittany nodded. "I think we owe the fact that I'm alive to Santana and Puck."

"What I did for you is nothing compared to what you're doing for me," Santana insisted. "I'd be on the streets if it weren't for you."

"Yeah, but my face would be missing."

"Brittany-"

"Get a room!" Puck called from the couch.

"Don't tempt us!" Brittany called back teasingly, making Santana flush. Brittany grabbed both girls by their wrists and dragged them to the entertainment room.

Around eight, the group decided that it was time for pizza, and when the delivery guy arrived, Rachel, Kurt, and Puck each threw money at Brittany to pick up their portions of the bill.

After watching several movies and annihilating their pizzas (vegan for Rachel, pepperoni for Kurt and Puck to share, and sausage for Santana and Brittany to share), eleven rolled around and Rachel, Kurt, and Puck had to leave.

" _Some_ of us still have an interest in going to school," Rachel reprimanded.

"Yeah, well _some_ of us might not be at school tomorrow, either." Brittany stuck her tongue out.

"Ugh, you are turning into such a hooligan, Brittany S. Pierce." Rachel turned to Santana. "You know, people think that you've killed her and left town."

Puck sighed and opened the door for Kurt and Rachel. "The sad thing is that she's not even joking. We'll set everyone straight tomorrow, won't we guys?"

"Hell yeah!"

Puck wrapped his arms around Santana. "See ya, Lopez."

"Thank you," Santana said into his shirt. "You're not a bad guy, Puckerman." Puck pulled away and nudged Santana's chin with his fist.

After also hugging Puck, Brittany closed the door behind him. "So what now?"

"I don't know." Santana looked around. "Tired of TV. Too early for bed. Too full to eat. Not interested enough to dance."

"We can take a blanket and lay out in the backyard," Brittany suggested.

Santana smiled. "Perfect."

\-----

"And there's _Canes Venatici_."

"Where?"

Brittany took Santana's hand, pointer finger extended, and slowly traced the constellation. "There's the Big Dipper, _Ursa Major_. And the rest-" She finished connecting the stars. "-makes up _Canes Venatici_. See how it looks like two dogs?"

Santana twisted her head one way, then the other. "Not really, no." She traced the Big Dipper again. "I mean, I see the drinking gourd thing." Brittany laughed. "But I see no dogs."

"It's hard," Brittany said. "Unless you've seen Hevelius' star atlas."

Santana turned her head to stare at Brittany. "Who's what, now?"

Brittany grinned up at the sky. "Don't worry; it's a nerd thing."

Santana bit her lip. "Teach me?"

Brittany frowned and turned her head. "About the stars?"

Santana turned onto her side fully and propped her head up with her hand. "Well, yeah." She toyed with the hem of Brittany's tank top. "Everything. I just want to be smart like you."

"But you are."

"Not like you, though," Santana said. "Half of the crap I learn at school is gone by the time I get home."

"Just…" Brittany paused, searching for the right words. "You have to find stuff that interests you. If you don't care about it, you won't retain it." She hesitated. "Supposed I asked you to tell me about singing."

Santana froze and averted her eyes from the sliver of exposed skin above Brittany's pants to the face that was once again turned skyward. "What?"

"If I asked you about singing," Brittany said again. "About music…what would you be able to tell me about it?" Santana was silent. "I walked by the bathroom earlier and heard you singing." Santana remained stoic. "Don't be angry. It was…your voice is beautiful." Brittany turned her head again. "You're really amazing."

Santana brushed her hair away from her face. "I was just goofing off."

"See, the weird part is that I don't think you were," Brittany said softly.

"Yeah well, so what?" It was a sensitive subject, singing. After having her talent suppressed for so many years, it was just one more thing for Santana to be bitter about. She had spent years singing in private, away from scornful, listening ears. Why would anyone care now? "It's not like it'll get me anywhere."

"Don't get defensive," Brittany said quietly. "Please. This is me, you know?" Santana nodded apologetically. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but I heard through the grapevine that there will be college scouts at the talent show in May. Maybe you should think about signing up. Even if you don't win, I'm sure you'll make an impression."

"I don't know."

"Just promise me you'll give it some thought?"

Santana smiled; there was absolutely no way that she could say no. "Promise." She linked her pinky with Brittany's.

"Good." Brittany released Santana's finger and folded her hands behind her head. "So, how do you feel about going to school tomorrow?"

Santana scoffed. "If you have to ask…"

Brittany hummed. "Right. Skipping. Just making sure."

Santana pulled her hand back. Brittany believed in her. For once in her life, someone was vocalizing just how much they thought that she could make it, and Santana hadn't figured out whether to be pleased or stressed out.

Santana, finally deciding that the time had to be now, rolled on top of Brittany. Panic flashed in her blue eyes at the surprise. "You've been so good to me." Brittany opened her mouth, but Santana continued. "And I know we've been through this and you're probably sick of hearing it…but thank you."

Brittany seemed speechless, and Santana did the only thing that she wanted to do. She leaned down, placing her mouth securely over Brittany's. Brittany stiffened, unsure of what to do, and Santana tilted her head, encouraging Brittany to relax. To Santana's delight, Brittany opened her mouth the slightest bit when Santana swiped her tongue slowly across her lip.

Now resting on her forearms, Santana happily probed her tongue into Brittany's mouth, slowly at first, not really knowing if Brittany had ever done anything like this before, and Brittany pulled her hands from behind her head. She wrapped her hands tightly around Santana's waist, just under her ribs. Santana's tongue slid over the roof of Brittany's mouth and Brittany pulled away slightly. "Santana," she murmured against Santana's lips. "What are we doing?"

Santana shifted, finding a more comfortable position, and shook her head. She paused to place a long, slow kiss on Brittany's lips. "I don't know," she admitted. "All I know is that I've wanted this for a long time, and it feels too fucking good to stop."

Brittany smiled and brought a hand up to cup Santana's jaw, making Santana hiss in pain. "Sorry," she apologized, running her fingers gently over the bruised flesh. She pushed Santana's shoulder until the confused girl was sitting astride her hips. When Santana shifted to rise, Brittany grabbed her hips to hold her down. "Where are you going?"

"Oh," Santana said dumbly, and an easy smile spread across her face. "I just thought…"

Brittany laughed lowly and sat up, using her strong stomach muscles to support her. "Well, there's our problem."

"Rude." 

Brittany grinned again. She took Santana's hands and moved them behind her head, draping Santana's arms over her own shoulders. Santana wrapped her arms loosely around Brittany's head. Brittany slid her hands to the small of Santana's back and attached her lips to the underside of Santana's jaw. She worked her way down Santana's sharp jaw with kisses, nips, and licks.

"Ay, dios," Santana moaned and threw her head back.

"Your Spanish accent sucks," Brittany whispered teasingly in her ear.

"Oh, please," Santana breathed. "What do you know about Spanish?"

"Hmm," Brittany hummed. "More than you, apparently." Sensing a snarky remark, Brittany dropped her head and rained open mouthed kisses across Santana's collarbone.

Santana whimpered as Brittany's head moved ever lower, reaching the top of her tank top and scraping her teeth across the skin. Santana pushed the right strap of Brittany's tank top off of her shoulder, and Brittany nipped her skin sharply. Santana hissed, tangled her fingers in Brittany's hair, and tugged hard to pull the blonde's mouth back to her own.

With Santana's tongue busy exploring her mouth, Brittany's hands slipped under Santana's shirt, brushing up her abs to the underside of her breasts. Santana suddenly became very aware that she wasn't wearing a bra. She arched her back, seeking more contact, and unintentionally ground her hips down, making both of them groan. Santana ran her hands through Brittany's hair, tugging extra hard and more than once in spots that seemed to make Brittany gasp, whimper, or arch into her.

As Brittany's hands inched higher under her shirt, caressing the outsides of Santana's breasts, the sound of car doors slamming made them jump apart.

"Did you hear that?" They asked at the same time, turning wide eyes to the corner of the house; bright headlights flooded the side of the yard.

"Mom and Carl!"

"Shit!"

Santana scrambled off of Brittany, not wanting to jeopardize her chances of staying in the Pierce household. She pulled at her shirt, which had been pushed halfway up her bare breasts, and smoothed her hair down. Brittany stood and grabbed the blanket that had been under them. They dashed into the house and Brittany tossed the blanket into the laundry room as they passed.

"Fix your hair!" Santana hissed. Brittany combed her hands through her mussed hair. The door opened and Susan's beaming face appeared.

"Hey, mom!" Brittany greeted, and Santana thought her tone dripped _guilt_ , but whatever. "Have fun?"

"Oh, I always have fun with Carl." Susan tossed her purse onto the table by the door. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Uh, yeah," Santana said. Because _damn _did they have fun. She folded her hands in front of her. "Yep, we've just been dancing. And nothing else." _Subtle_.__

__Susan covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned. "You girls going to school tomorrow?"_ _

__Brittany pushed Santana towards the stairs. "I don't think so," she said. "But we're gonna hit the hay. Goodnight!"_ _

__"Goodnight!" Susan called._ _

__Santana made a quick detour into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, and when she finally went into the bedroom, Brittany was already on her side, sound asleep. Santana flipped the lights off and crawled in behind Brittany. She curled herself around the taller body and pulled Brittany closer by her waist. Despite her sexual frustration, Santana was asleep almost instantly._ _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut.

Rain poured outside. Thunder rumbled above them loudly. The lightning was blinding. But none of it mattered; Santana had woken in the best possible way: a pair of soft lips on hers.

Brittany was shy in most aspects of life. Dishing out the love was obviously not one of them.

Not that Santana minded. Not the least bit. She'd always wondered what the hype was to be woken with good morning kisses, but she hadn't expected it to feel like this. She was by no means a morning person, but she figured that she wouldn't mind waking up this way every morning.

Brittany was laying half on top of her, one hand toying with Santana's hair, the other splayed under Santana's shirt, across her stomach, warm skin against warm skin. Santana's arms were wrapped under Brittany's arms and back around to cling to Brittany's shoulders, holding her as close as possible.

"So," Brittany whispered. She brushed her nose against Santana's cheek. "Did you mean it?" She slid her hand to Santana's hip, drawing lazy shapes on the sensitive skin.

"Mmm?" Santana closed her eyes and yawned. "Mean what?" She dropped her hands to run them blindly over the exposed skin of Brittany's lower back, tracing her tattoo as best she could.

Brittany hummed her approval. "That you've wanted this for a long time."

Santana's eyes shot open, wondering why, now that they were friends, Brittany would question her. Above her, Brittany was smirking. "Of course," she said. "And you know that, so why are you asking?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it." Brittany kissed her quickly.

"Annnnnd," Santana drew out, snaking her hands around to grip the front of Brittany's shirt. "What about you?" Brittany smiled.

"It's hard to feel anything but hate and animosity towards the person who single handedly made your life miserable for years." Santana's face fell. "But I'll be damned if I didn't pull it off."

"Even-"

"I think I've always kind of known," Brittany interrupted, already knowing the question. "I always kind of knew that you hated me because you loved me."

"You did?" Well. Santana had always thought that she hid it well. "How?"

Brittany brushed some hair off of Santana's forehead and tucked it behind her ear. "The same way that I knew about Puck and Kurt," she whispered. "And Quinn and Rachel, though God only knows why." Santana laughed, but she was surprised; sure she'd always suspected that Quinn wasn't exactly straight, but she never thought it'd be _Rachel_. "The same way I knew about Mike and Tina. I pay attention to people. I paid attention to you."

Santana took Brittany's hand and interlocked their fingers over her heart. "Puck and I were only together for a month," she said unnecessarily. "Back in middle school. The rest of the time we were faking."

Brittany nodded. "I know."

Santana bit her lip. In addition to being smart, Brittany was strangely observant for a girl who had spent most of her life looking down. Santana leaned up to kiss Brittany, but a knock on the door sent them clambering away from each other. The door swung open to reveal Susan, still in sweatpants and a tank top; dressed up or dressed down, Susan was still fucking gorgeous. _Just like Brittany_.

"Breakfast is ready if you girls are hungry," Susan said.

Brittany's eyes lit up and she jumped from the bed and ran past Susan. Santana laughed.

"The one thing you need to know," Susan said, gesturing for Santana to follow. "Brittany never refuses food." Together, they reached the stairs in time to see Brittany sliding down the banister. "Brittany Susan Pierce, I told you to cut that out!"

Reaching the bottom of the banister, Brittany jumped off and called, "Sorry mom!" before sliding on her socked feet into the kitchen. A crash was heard and they quickened their pace, reaching the kitchen just as Brittany was righting the chair that she had slid into. "Sorry."

"Enough of that," Susan reprimanded. She gestured for the both of them to sit and eat. "Now, today is my day off, my last day off for several weeks, and I was hoping for some peace and quiet." She turned to Santana and jerked her thumb towards Brittany. "Of course, living with this one…" She shrugged helplessly. Santana laughed and Brittany kicked her under the table.

"We were just going to have a lazy day anyway," Brittany said dismissively, though it was clear that she had had other things in mind.

Santana turned wide eyes to Brittany, truly concerned with Brittany's plans. "Are we going to dance?" Exams were still a couple of months away, but Santana needed all the help she could get.

"We can if you want." Brittany ran her foot over Santana's, fully aware of Santana's concerns. "It's your call."

"I'd feel more comfortable…"

Brittany smiled. "Looks like you're getting your peace and quiet after all, mom."

Neither missed Susan's double fist pump.

\-----

As it turned out, dancing really close like the girls tended to do led to Santana throwing Brittany to the floor and ravishing every bit of exposed skin that she could before, once again, Susan got bored and decided to come down and watch them (had the basement door not been squeaky, they would have been caught). So they ended up doing the mimic exercise again.

Together, they decided – reluctantly – that they would return to school on Thursday; there were only two days to suffer through before a much welcomed three day weekend.

Thursday found Santana and Brittany walking the halls amid whispers, and Santana, face burning, kept her eyes on her feet. Living in such a small town meant that by now news about her getting kicked out had already reached every ear, and speculations as to why it had happened were being tossed about.

"Hey!" She heard Puck bark as his heavy arm slid across her shoulders. Beside her, Brittany's hand bumped hers and Santana shamelessly grabbed it for support. "All of you mind your own fucking business!"

The whispers stopped, normal activity resumed, and just as suddenly as he appeared, Puck was gone. Brittany reached over with her free hand and bumped Santana's chin up. "It's okay," she said quietly. Santana looked over, and couldn't help but feel comforted by Brittany's bright smile. "I'm here with you." Santana allowed a small smile and nodded.

The rest of their first day back went smoothly. Santana had had to throw a few dirty looks here and there, but there had been absolutely no sign of Quinn, so that was a plus. After a lot of thought, Santana had gone to the theatre director and signed up as a solo act for the talent show. Santana had even eaten lunch with Brittany, Kurt, Rachel, and Finn.

"As much as I enjoy your presence, Santana," Rachel said, standing. "I have some important business to attend to, so if you all will excuse me."

As Rachel took her leave, Santana leaned over to Brittany and, only half joking, whispered, "You better watch her. That's the same bull Quinn fed me before she went bonkers."

Brittany frowned and didn't reply.

\-----

Rachel approached the blonde cautiously. A note – the signer claiming to be Quinn – had been slipped into her locker, asking for a meeting under the bleachers by the football field after lunch. Rachel had considered ignoring the note, but, with the absence of Quinn all day, Rachel's curiosity had gotten the best of her.

Rachel glanced around. If this was a trap, Quinn had gone to great measures to cover it all up. The cheerleader was sitting alone on the grass with her knees drawn to her chest. Her back was to Rachel and her ponytail whipped with the little bit of wind that was able to reach her.

The ground was still saturated from the previous day's storm, but as Rachel, eyes darting furiously for any glimpses of red uniforms, stepped under the bleachers, she noted happily that it was bone dry.

Quinn was staring through the slats of the seats, out across the football field, arms wrapped loosely around her thighs. For a while, it seemed as though she wasn't aware of Rachel's presence, and Rachel picked nervously at the grass by her foot, unsure of what to say.

"You came," Quinn whispered finally.

Rachel nodded, though she knew Quinn wouldn't see her. "Yes," she said. "Though I will be honest…I almost didn't."

"I understand."

Rachel bit her lip and looked away, scanning the area absently. "Quinn, why did you ask me to come out here?"

Ignoring her question, Quinn countered with her own. "How's Santana?"

Rachel turned back to Quinn. "She's good."

"And Brittany?"

"She's…okay," Rachel said, clearly confused. She couldn't remember Quinn ever addressing Brittany by her actual name. "I guess. I mean…she's good."

"They're living together, right?" Rachel nodded, and Quinn's peripheral vision must have been amazing because she continued. "Are they dating yet?"

Taken aback, Rachel sputtered, "Wh-what? No. I…I don't think so…but now that you mention it, they have become rather close…"

Finally Quinn smiled, a soft gesture that Rachel thought was breathtaking on her. "Well, it's only a matter of time. Santana certainly deserves it."

Unable to discern whether or not Quinn was making a crack towards Brittany or if she was genuinely happy for Santana, Rachel backpedaled. "Why did you ask me to come here?"

Finally, Quinn turned her head to stare at Rachel. Tears glistened on her cheeks. "I'm not a bad person," she whispered miserably.

Rachel's eyes darted. "Well, no," she agreed. "You're not. But the things you do and the things you say certainly suggest-" Rachel stopped; Quinn had fallen sideways, letting her head hit Rachel's shoulder, and for a moment Rachel thought that she had fainted, until a sob escaped the other girl. "-otherwise."

Quinn tried to speak, but choked on her words as another sob escaped her. Then, she tried again. "I'm sorry for my existence," she mumbled pitifully.

Speechless, Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's shaking frame and held her tightly.

\-----

"Your mom and Carl are right downstairs."

"With the heels that woman wears, we'll hear her way before she hears us."

Trapped between Brittany and the bedroom wall, Santana grunted as Brittany hefted her up. She wrapped her legs around Brittany's waist, still amazed at the other girl's strength. Brittany gripped her thighs, just below the legs of her short denim shorts.

"You better be right." She dug the heels of her sneakers into the small of Brittany's back. Brittany bit her jaw playfully. "If we get caught, I'm so blaming you."

The weeks had passed in a blur, and suddenly the middle of May was upon them. The talent show and exams were fast approaching – Santana's dance was nearly finished and she had yet to pick a song for the talent show, but the only thing plaguing her mind was _what the fuck are we_?

At this point, spontaneous make-out sessions were the norm for Santana and Brittany. It was never long before one girl had to give in to the pull between them and throw the other to the dance studio or bedroom floor or slam the other against the nearest wall, lips hungrily seeking every bit of skin possible. Much to Santana's chagrin, they had yet to get past kissing and necking – and a little over the shirt groping on her part – before something or someone interrupted them.

Santana was convinced that if the two of them were alone on a tiny, uncharted island, _something_ would happen to make them stop.

They had yet to talk about it, this weird thing that they had going between them. As far as Santana knew, they weren't official; they hadn't even discussed each other's past experiences – or lack thereof.

The morning in question, Brittany had bounded in at six-thirty – a supposedly non-existent hour where Saturday was now concerned – and pounced on Santana's sleeping form. She declared that April and Jeremy were opening their pool for the summer, and that she and Santana were going to make the two hour drive to go swimming.

Santana had just finished lacing her sneakers when Brittany had pulled her up by her hands and pinned her against the wall. Not that she particularly minded, but if Brittany had have been five minutes earlier, Santana would have been naked and they could have had a little quickie.

Brittany gently unwrapped Santana's legs and set her back on the floor. Santana kept her fingers tangled in Brittany's hair and gently stroked her scalp as they broke contact and shared a smile.

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Brittany slipped her hands under Santana's shirt and rubbed tight circles on her hipbones with her thumbs. "Okay, I'm listening."

Santana licked her lips. She unwrapped her arms and slid her hands down to smooth across Brittany's shoulders, fixing her rumpled shirt. "You know what? It can wait." Brittany nodded, obviously disappointed; Santana knew that she wanted to move forward, but Brittany had done most of what she could. The rest was up to Santana.

"Well," Brittany said. She moved away from Santana. "Got your swim suit?"

"Under my clothes."

Brittany's eyes snapped down to Santana's breasts and she licked her lips. "Right. Well. Shall we go then?"

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "'Shall'?"

Brittany laughed and pointed to the door. "Just go," she said, tapping Santana playfully on the butt as she passed.

Brittany and Santana took the jeep and Susan and Carl followed in Carl's car. What should have been a two hour drive took thirty minutes longer because Santana had a bladder the size of a pinhead, but they made it safely.

As soon as Brittany's feet hit the ground she was stripping, leaving Santana's slack jawed and breathless as she watched. "Come on!" Brittany said, dragging Santana by the wrist.

The morning sun was already nearly unbearable, and Santana pulled her shirt off when her feet touched the cement ledge, made cool by the water that Brittany had splashed out when she cannonballed.

When Brittany surfaced, spitting water in April's direction, she asked, "Where's Allie?"

"Visiting my parents for the weekend." Jeremy shook his head, not unlike a wet dog. "They haven't seen her in weeks-"

"And mommy and daddy wanted some grown up time," April added.

"Gross," Brittany said. She was obviously disappointed about Allie's absence, but she called out, "C'mon, Santana! The water feels amazing!"

Santana sat in a deck chair and scoffed. "No thanks. My butt is staying in this chair and soaking up the sun." She threw her sun block to the side, adjusted her sunglasses, closed her eyes, and laid back.

Soon though, the sun was gone and Santana opened her eyes. "D'you mind?" She stuck her tongue out at Brittany, whose grinning face was blocking the sun and dripping cold water on her.

"Nope!" Brittany chirped before bending over. She hooked one arm under Santana's knees and the other under her back to pick her up bridal style.

"Brittany!" Santana shrieked and wrapped her arms tightly around Brittany's neck. Brittany cackled and carried Santana to the edge of the deepest end. "Brittany, no! Stop! My hair doesn't agree with water!"

"You shower don't you?"

"It's not the same thi – Brittany, no!" Brittany dropped her arms, releasing Santana into the cold water. But Santana, having had a death grip on Brittany, ended up dragging the other girl with her, and the last thing that Santana saw before the water rushed her face was Brittany flipping end-over-end after her.

Santana kicked to the surface. She could hear the adults – especially Jeremy – laughing at them. She cleared her face of water and hefted herself onto the side of the pool. In front of her, Brittany was doing acrobatics under the water, and Santana began to wring her hair out. Suddenly, Brittany's form darted towards her, and Santana spread her legs in time for Brittany to surface between them and spit water on her abdomen.

"Classy," Santana joked. But Brittany's eyes, now wide, were affixed to the one place Santana didn't expect: the apex of her thighs. Santana reached out and palmed the back of Brittany's head, waiting anxiously for her next move.

Brittany blindly grabbed a passing inflatable chair, looked up to Santana's face, and extended her hand. Santana eyed it warily. "Trust me," Brittany whispered, her eyes flicking back to Santana's covered center.

"Brittany, I don't-"

"I'll make it worth your while," Brittany whispered, flexing the fingers of her outstretched hand. "Please?"

Curiosity – and anticipation – won her over, and Santana took Brittany's hand, allowing the other to help her back into the water. Brittany pulled the chair closer and hoisted herself into it. She pulled Santana closer, turned her around, and pulled her into the chair to sit between her legs. Santana tensed, feeling the chair sink lower than it really should have. "It's okay," Brittany said. "It'll be fine when we sit back. But if anyone goes under, it'll be me."

Santana nodded and leaned back against Brittany's chest, pleased at how comfortable it actually felt. Brittany's fingers ghosted over Santana's ribs and against the bottom of her bikini top before her hand came up to close over a full breast. "You have to be quiet okay?" Brittany pressed a kiss to Santana's shoulder. Santana nodded enthusiastically; this was the farthest that Brittany had gone with her. Normally Santana was the one groping like a mad woman. Looking around, though, she knew that they didn't have to worry too much about being caught. April and Jeremy were already half-past foreplay, and Santana wasn't sure exactly what Susan and Carl were up to, but she knew that if she dwelled too much on it she'd make herself sick.

Santana pushed into the hand kneading her chest. "Okay," she whispered.

Brittany moved Santana's hair to the side and slowly worked the knot at the nape of Santana's neck, giving the girl leeway to change her mind.

"Are you sure?" Brittany whispered, now clinging to the untied straps of Santana's top. "Like, absolutely?"

Santana answered the only way that she knew to make Brittany understand. "I want this as much as you do."

Brittany smiled against her shoulder, still keeping half an eye on the adults. She pulled the strings down and trapped them under her own legs so that the top wouldn't float around. With her top clinging to her by only the tie around the middle, her breasts completely free to the chill of the water, Santana gasped in anticipation and pressed back into Brittany further.

"Remember," Brittany mumbled against her shoulder. "Quiet." Then, her hands closed around Santana's breasts, palms rolling against already erect nipples, and Santana's breath hitched. Brittany squeezed once, twice, three times, before pulling away to let her fingers focus on rolling Santana's nipples between her thin, shriveled fingers, teasing agonizingly. Santana held in a groan and dropped her head back to Brittany's shoulder. Brittany sucked the skin behind Santana's ear and Santana realized that _holy shit_ Brittany had totally fucking done this before.

Brittany, who was apparently as tired of all of the teasing as Santana was, finally released Santana's breasts, and Santana whimpered because she knew what came next. Brittany's hands trailed down Santana's taut stomach, pausing briefly to tug softly at the piercing in Santana's navel – which Brittany had been surprised to find – before continuing onwards.

Santana turned her head and pressed her face into the side of Brittany's neck, trusting the other girl to watch the others. Brittany lifted Santana's legs and laid them over her own, using her knees to keep Santana's legs spread. She rubbed the insides of Santana's thighs and whispered, "The time to back out is now."

"The time to back out was months ago," Santana panted. Her impending orgasm had been a long time coming, what with the dreams that had started way before they were friends and their make-out sessions, Santana was more than ready for this.

Brittany's breathy laugh played over Santana's ear. She moved the material of the bikini to the side and slid her slender finger through Santana's hot folds. Both girls gasped at the contact, which was weeks overdue, and Santana bucked into her hand. "Please," she breathed. "Brittany-"

The rest of her sentence was cut short as Brittany sank her middle finger deep into Santana. Santana's back arched, nearly exposing her bare breasts to the open air, and Brittany had to wrap her free arm around Santana's waist to keep her grounded as she slid the single digit out and pushed it back in.

Santana's breath left her in ragged huffs and she moaned as the finger curled as it bottomed; she was so close already. "More."

On her next thrust, Brittany added a finger, and Santana whined. Brittany sped up, thrust, curl, and tried to keep Santana from joining the rhythm, not wanting to make waves and attract attention. "You need to be still."

"Can't," Santana whimpered. "So close…"

Brittany's fingers slowed and Santana nearly screamed. Then, her other hand sneaked down and a finger brushed over Santana's clit, and Brittany sped up. Santana, now seeing stars, lifted her hips and, needing something to do with her own hands, brought them to her breasts and pinched and pulled her own nipples, hypnotizing Brittany. Brittany moaned at the sight of Santana playing with herself, the sound muffled by Santana's shoulder.

"Brittany, please," Santana begged. Brittany thrust in as far and as hard as she could, curled her fingers, and pressed hard on Santana's clit. Santana's toes curled and she bit down on Brittany's jaw as she came. Brittany held her to limit her thrashing and continued to slide in and out slowly, bringing Santana down.

Finally, as Santana's breathing slowed, Brittany pulled out and ran comforting hands over her arms. "You okay?"

"Better than okay," Santana said. She kissed Brittany's cheek fondly.

Brittany pushed Santana forward and retied her top, finishing just as Jeremy ran past them and jumped on the diving board. He crashed hard into the water beside them, rocking their chair, and surfaced under them, sending both girls face first into the water. Brittany jumped up and onto his back and managed to wrestle him under the water. He surfaced mere seconds later, his hand on top of Brittany's head to hold her under the water.

Now that her entire body didn't feel like jelly, Santana laughed and surged forward. Jeremy caught her mid-air, allowing Brittany to come up. "Well, hey there little missy," he drawled in an exaggerated country accent before tossing her effortlessly at Brittany. Brittany caught her and they both toppled back under the water.

Above them, the muffled laughs of the adults didn't matter. Brittany grabbed Santana's waist and pulled her forward. Santana wrapped her legs tightly around Brittany's waist and her arms tightly around Brittany's head. Her lips sought Brittany's, immediately seeking entrance, which was enthusiastically granted. Their tongues slid easily over each other's. Santana's lungs burned, but Brittany sucked on her tongue, and suddenly it didn't matter much. That is, until Jeremy grabbed them by their biceps. They reluctantly pulled apart and he pulled them up.

"Whoa, you girls have a death wish?"

They shared a smile.

\-----

The rest of their day was spent wrestling with Jeremy. When six thirty rolled around, Carl and Susan headed off to dinner and a movie and Brittany and Santana climbed into the jeep for the long drive home. They held hands over the console, the silence broken only when Santana leaned over to nip Brittany's ear or jaw and whisper dirty things that made pale cheeks flush.

When they finally made it back, Santana dropped their bag by the door and dragged Brittany up the stairs roughly by her hand; by the sounds of it, they were finally getting the house to themselves for several hours, and Santana intended to make good use of it.

Santana whirled around on the top step and Brittany bumped into her, instinctively grabbing Santana's waist to steady them. Now at the same level, Santana didn't have to stand on her tip-toes or use Brittany's shoulders to pull herself up when she crushed their lips together.

"Where are we going in such a rush?" Brittany asked coyly when Santana pulled back.

Santana worked her hands under Brittany's top, tugged it over her head, and tossed it to the side. "Bed," she muttered against Brittany's neck. Brittany groaned. "Now."

Santana pulled away and continued pulling Brittany to the bedroom. Once there, she shut and locked the door, just in case. When she turned around, Brittany slammed her hard against the door and tangled her fingers in Santana's hair as their lips met in the most heated kiss they had shared. Their tongues battled, and Brittany's still wet bathing suit top soaked through Santana's shirt.

Wanting to repay Brittany for earlier, but clearly losing the battle for dominance, Santana worked a knee between Brittany's legs and pressed hard against her. Brittany gasped. Her knees nearly buckled, but she seemed to get the hint.

Santana pushed Brittany towards the bed. Brittany climbed backwards until she could lay her head on her pillow and Santana crawled on top of her. She pulled her lips from Brittany's to trail them down Brittany's neck, the valley of her breasts, and she sat back to tug Brittany's shorts off.

Santana straddled Brittany's hips. Her fingers traced over quivering abs. She leaned down to let her breath tickle them as she talked. "You know I never officially apologized." She licked a wet path around Brittany's navel and Brittany moaned. "For everything I did to you." She nipped Brittany's skin lightly. "All the pain that I caused you." She kissed her way back up to Brittany's mouth. She lifted Brittany up to slowly untie the top at Brittany's neck. "And I know that this won't make up for it, but-"

"Look, if we're going to talk about this now, you're going to have to stop everything that you're doing so I can focus." Santana actually looked torn. Brittany held her top up to her chest and used her stomach muscles to lift up and kiss Santana.

"I'm sorry," Santana said. "For all I did, all I said."

"Shh," Brittany shushed, fingers playing over Santana's neck. "These past few months? You've more than made up for it. You stand up for me at school, you eat lunch with me and my friends…you're my _friend_ , and you're not embarrassed about it. That's enough."

"What are we?" Santana traced the top of Brittany's bikini distractedly and Brittany batted her hand away. Since they were talking, although this was not really the ideal time, Santana figured she should ask. "I mean…are we just friends? Are we fuck buddies? Or are we girlfriends?"

Brittany stroked Santana's chin with her finger. "We're whatever you want us to be," she whispered, and Santana could hear the tears in her voice. "I've made it clear what I want."

Santana grabbed Brittany's hand and kissed her fingers. "So it's up to me now." Brittany nodded. "I've loved you since I was eight. And that's why I hated you." Brittany nodded. "My mom was already becoming detached, and I didn't really think I'd ever need or want anyone. And then you, the new girl, came in and stole my fucking heart with that stupid smile. And it scared me. I thought if I belittled you it would go away. You know, maybe I could find a legitimate flaw or something in you. But I didn’t, and it didn't go away. It grew. And now I want nothing more than for you to be mine. So will you? Be my girlfriend?"

Brittany nodded, a tear cascading down her cheek, and simply said, "Yes," before moving Santana's hands back to her top.

Moving with renewed vigor and a new purpose, Santana tossed the top to the side. She wrapped one arm around Brittany's back and lowered her mouth to Brittany's left breast and closed her mouth around the nipple, her left hand kneading the other, and Brittany threaded her fingers in Santana's hair to hold her in place. Santana bit the base of the nipple and rolled her tongue over the tip. Brittany whined and canted her hips up. Santana flicked her tongue once more before pulling back. She pushed Brittany down, made quick work of her bottoms, and kissed Brittany hungrily. She pulled Brittany's bottom lip between her own, sucked lightly on it, and released. Brittany drew a shaky breath.

Santana reached down and traced Brittany's folds, and Brittany's mouth fell open. "Have you done this before?" Santana whispered uncertainly.

"Twice," Brittany gasped, confirming Santana's earlier suspicions. "You?"

"Once, and not with a girl." Then, she pushed two digits smoothly into Brittany and the girl arched.

"Oh, god," she groaned as the fingers pumped in and out and Santana kissed her pelvis. The digits disappeared, but before Brittany's could miss them, Santana's tongue was on her.

Brittany lifted her hips as Santana's tongue stroked her relentlessly. She fisted Santana's hair in one hand and her bed sheets in the other. Santana flicked the tip of her tongue over Brittany's clit, making the girl jerk, before wrapping her lips around the bundle of nerves. She shoved two fingers back into Brittany and sucked roughly.

"God," she groaned into Brittany's skin. She curled her fingers. "You're so wet."

"So close," Brittany panted. A sheen of sweat coated her body, and Santana gave one final thrust, curled her fingers as much as she could, hitting _that_ spot, and bit Brittany's clit lightly. Brittany's thighs tightened around her head and she gave a violent jerk. Her mouth dropped open in a silent cry and Santana continued to lick, catching every drop of Brittany until she stopped moving.

Santana pulled out and crawled back up Brittany's body. She sucked her fingers into her mouth, making Brittany moan, and leaned down. She wasted no time in invading Brittany's mouth with her tongue, letting her taste herself.

Brittany flipped them over. "Mmm," she said, hovering over Santana's lips. "I bet you taste better." Santana groaned at the insinuation. "Get ready; it's going to be a long night."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death and Brittany is a brat.

For the first time in weeks, Santana woke up alone. She was cold and sore from head to foot, and, as she blindly reached for Brittany, she nearly sobbed; yesterday could not have been a dream. Santana refused to believe it. Santana buried her face in her pillow for a few moments, taking time to assess her aching body to assure herself that, no, there was no way that her time with Brittany had been a dream.

Santana rolled out of bed and pulled on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. As she walked, she pivoted at her hips, working the kinks from her back. It was early, the sun was just barely illuminating the rooms that Santana passed, and no matter how hard she thought, Santana couldn't come up with a reason for Brittany to be up this early.

Santana trudged into the kitchen and her heart raced; Brittany was sitting at the table, her face in her hands, and Susan was leaning dejectedly on the sink, staring out of the window and over the back yard. The worst scenarios ran through Santana's mind as she continued to stare at Susan's heartbroken face. Had Susan walked in on them as they lay naked, wrapped up in each other? Had Susan returned earlier than expected and heard them?

Santana had just gotten Brittany, like officially _got _Brittany; did she have to give her up already?__

__"Hey," Santana said slowly, stopping just inside the doorway. At the sound of her voice, Brittany dropped her hands. To Santana's relief, she wasn't crying, but she looked like she could start at any moment. She smiled and – as if Santana's ego needed to be any bigger – it seemed like Santana might have been Brittany's only beacon of hope. "What's going on?" Her eyes searched Brittany's, and, finally, a tear fell from a blue eye._ _

__Susan turned from the sink – too sharply for Santana's liking – and smiled at Santana. "Good morning," she said after taking a deep breath. "How did you sleep?"_ _

___Trick question_? "Great." She blushed as images from the previous night flashed in her mind's eye. "Why is everyone upset?"_ _

__Susan strode forward, her left hand outstretched enthusiastically. "Carl proposed," she gushed. "It was so romantic and-"_ _

__"Mom."_ _

__The scowl returned to Susan's face. "And Brittany isn't happy about it, apparently."_ _

__At the table, Brittany crossed her arms and scoffed. She sat back lazily. " _Apparently_. I don't see why you need him, anyways."_ _

__"He makes me happy."_ _

__"And I don't?"_ _

__Susan turned to face her daughter. "Brittany, you know it's not the same thing!" Brittany set her jaw. "Brittany, sooner or later, you'll be moving on and starting your own family, just like April. What am I going to do then? Just sit here all alone?"_ _

__Santana stepped forward. "I thought we talked about this," she said quietly, hoping her words would calm her girlfriend enough so that she could be rational. "Remember, we were going to be supportive because Susan is happy?"_ _

__The phone rang and Susan took it from the cradle and stepped out of the room to answer it._ _

__"That was before she decided to marry him!" Brittany called after Susan._ _

__Santana jerked Brittany's chair out from under the table and turned it so that she could kneel between Brittany's knees. She threaded their fingers together and held tightly. "You're being a brat," she said matter-of-factly._ _

__"Fuck you."_ _

__Though stunned by the quiet words, Santana couldn't help but smirk in amusement. "That comes later." She kissed Brittany's knuckles, noting that her hands were shaking with her anger._ _

__"I should have known you'd take her side," Brittany whispered as more tears fell._ _

__"I'm not taking sides," Santana insisted desperately. "But someone loses either way…and you've got to understand that Susan has more to lose than you do." Brittany shook her head and looked away. She tried to pull her hands from Santana, but Santana held tighter, not caring at this point if she hurt Brittany. She just needed Brittany to get it. "Are we really going to fight? Because I didn't picture our first day of being official like this…" Brittany said nothing._ _

__Susan returned and sat the phone back into its cradle. "Carl is coming over-"_ _

__"Surprise, surprise."_ _

__"-and I think that it would be a good idea if the two of you sat down and talked."_ _

__Brittany rose quickly, nearly toppling Santana, and clenched her fists. "I don't want to talk to him."_ _

__"I know you'd like him if-"_ _

__"Go ahead and have your wedding," Brittany spat as she stormed off. "But don't expect me to be there."_ _

__Santana stood and watched Brittany run up the stairs. Susan released a sad sigh. "If she'd give him a chance…"_ _

__"I know," Santana said. She wasn't particularly fond of Carl, but Susan was happy, and ultimately that was what mattered. "But, then again, I know how she feels…"_ _

__Susan drew her lips into a thin line before continuing. "You know…before Carl came along I was a mess." She paused to sniff. "Bryant was the love of my life. He was fun, he was sweet, he adored April and Brittany. Bryant was the glue that held this family together." Santana nodded. "Then he was gone. It wasn't exactly sudden but…well, how do you prepare for something like that?"_ _

__Santana shook her head. "You can't. You don't."_ _

__"Right afterwards, April got pregnant, and she and Jeremy decided to move out. Brittany was closer to Bryant than April, so naturally she was more upset. She was getting tattoos and piercings behind my back and throwing herself into dance camps all the way across the country, you know, that rebellious part of mourning I guess. I had lost my husband, and I felt like I was losing my daughters too. I was depressed. And then I met Carl at the hospital and…everything seemed to get a little brighter day by day."_ _

__The story sounded painfully familiar in several parts but one major one: Maribel Lopez had settled. She'd gotten depressed and became an alcoholic, sleeping with every man that looked her way. That's where Susan and Maribel were different, Santana supposed. Susan had been more worried about her family splitting apart and Maribel had only cared about her own pain, selfishly ignoring the fact that the Lopez family had crumbled at its foundation._ _

__Santana took a deep breath. "Susan," she said. "I know what's wrong with Brittany. And with just a little bit of information, and I guess some permission, from you, I can fix her."_ _

__\-----_ _

__Santana took the stairs two at a time. Susan had been hesitant to tell her what she wanted to know, but after some coaxing, she'd finally given in. Santana liked to think that, after these few weeks, Susan trusted her enough to know that what Santana had planned would help Brittany begin to heal._ _

__When Santana entered their shared room, Brittany was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. Santana knelt on the floor in front of Brittany and placed her hands in the bends of Brittany's elbows. She rested her forehead against the top of Brittany's head._ _

__"I'm sorry," Brittany mumbled. "For what I said. It was uncalled for."_ _

__Santana rubbed Brittany's arms. "Well, yeah, it was. But it's okay, partially because you will be fucking me later, but mostly because I understand. I understand why you're upset. So I'm going to take you on a little trip."_ _

__Brittany lifted her head. "A trip?" Santana nodded. "A trip to where?"_ _

__Santana hummed and leaned in to kiss Brittany quickly. "You'll see," she whispered against pouting lips. "First you gotta get in the car."_ _

__Brittany tried to pull Santana closer, but Santana stood up. "But I'd really much rather stay here," Brittany said suggestively. She grabbed for Santana's hand to pull her back down, but Santana dodged her efforts. "Santana," she whined._ _

__"Nope," Santana said. She pulled Brittany up and out the door. "C'mon, it'll be good for you, and I promise that you will end up liking it."_ _

__"Promise?"_ _

__"Have I ever lied to you?" Santana asked as they bounded down the stairs. At Brittany's hesitation, she said, "Never mind."_ _

__Just as they reached the bottom, the door opened and Carl stepped into the house. He spotted them and smiled. "Hey there, girls, where's Susan?" He held his fist up for a fist bump as Brittany breezed past him, but she ignored it and Carl scowled._ _

__Santana sighed and stared after Brittany. "Susan is probably in the kitchen."_ _

__Carl pointed in the direction that Brittany fled. "Where is she going? I want to sit and have a talk with her about Susan and me."_ _

__Santana grabbed the keys to the jeep from the key hook and bypassed Carl to stand on the porch. She watched Brittany stomp across the yard, enter the garage, and slam the door behind her. She turned back to Carl. "Needless to say, Brittany is upset by this whole thing." Carl heaved a defeated sigh. "But I have an idea that I think will help her process this situation a bit better. I just need a few hours." Carl nodded and Santana followed Brittany._ _

__In the garage, Brittany was leaning with her arms crossed against the driver's door. Santana stood in front of her. "Could you be any more petulant?"_ _

__"Probably," Brittany said with a shrug. "If I tried hard enough, I'm sure I could pull something off." She held her hand out for the car key, but Santana pulled them out of her reach._ _

__"Nope," Santana said. "It's the passenger seat for you."_ _

__"What? Why?"_ _

__"Because it's a surprise. Now go." The truth was, as soon as Brittany realized where they were going, Santana knew that she'd turn around. And she'd probably be really angry. This way, with Santana driving, the only way that Brittany could stop her would be to jump out of a moving car._ _

__"Fine," Brittany said and rounded to hop in. When they were both seated, buckled in, and Santana had pulled out the slip of paper with hand-written directions, Brittany reached for the paper, which was quickly tucked between Santana's seat and the door. "Where are we going?"_ _

__"That's for me to know." Santana backed out of the garage._ _

__"But-"_ _

__"Not gonna tell you a thing."_ _

__"Why do you need directions, though," Brittany asked._ _

__Without meaning to, Santana pulled her bitch face. "Because I don't know how to get to where we're going, duh." Brittany frowned. "Look, I'm sorry." Santana retrieved the paper and held it between her thigh and the door. "But it's a surprise; I don't want it to be ruined for you." Brittany nodded and turned to watch the trees pass by her window._ _

__They drove through the city and past its opposite limit. Almost an hour passed, and Brittany had become increasingly restless as landmarks became more and more familiar to her. She sat up straighter and her eyes darted as the church came into view. "Santana." Santana continued to stare ahead. "Santana, stop the car."_ _

__"Brittany, I really think that-"_ _

__"Santana, no," Brittany whimpered. "Please, turn around."_ _

__"Brittany-"_ _

__"Take me home," Brittany begged. "Please."_ _

__Santana turned and the desperate tears in Brittany's eyes almost made her crack. She shook her head and willed her own tears away. "No, Brittany," she whispered. "You need to do this."_ _

__The dirt road led past the church, past an old crumbling building, and through a wooded area. When the cemetery was finally in view, Brittany sobbed. "I can't," she whispered. "Santana, please. Don't make me."_ _

__Santana parked the car at the end of a row of headstones and killed the engine. She turned in her seat to face Brittany. "Listen to me," she said. Brittany shook her head and leaned it against her window. "It's been four years. It's time you confronted this. You need to do this to move on."_ _

__Brittany sobbed again and clenched her eyes tightly to stop her tears. Santana watched, torn between pulling through with making Brittany do this and turning the car around to pretend like this never happened. But Brittany would have to do this sooner or later because holding all of her emotions in wasn't healthy. Finally, Brittany opened her eyes and stared out over the stones. Some were old, crumbling. Others looked as though they'd just been placed within minutes of the two of them arriving; but no matter how she spun it, no matter how Santana tried to picture them, the stones all meant the same thing._ _

__"Will you come with me?"_ _

__"Of course…but…" Santana rubbed Brittany's elbow. "Are you sure?"_ _

__Brittany nodded. "I can't do this alone." Before Santana could answer her, Brittany climbed out of the car. Santana followed suit, but fell back as Brittany walked the rows of stones. Susan had said that Brittany hadn't been here in four years, not since the funeral, and Santana guessed that Brittany wasn't really sure of where He rested._ _

__Brittany walked slowly, surveying the stones quietly. Finally, she veered off into a completely different direction, and Santana realized that Brittany had just been taking some time to ready herself. The sun, already almost unbearably warm, became obscured by clouds as Brittany crouched by a wide stone, adorned with a cross on its top. Santana hung back, close enough to hear if Brittany needed her, and read the writings on the stones._ _

__From the corner of her eye, Santana watched Brittany reach out and trace the engraved letters._ _

_____Bryant Nathaniel Pierce_  
March 22, 1965 – June 14, 2007  
Son. Husband. Father.  
Thank you for your courage.  
God give us strength in our lives without you 

__Brittany was silent, and Santana mentally willed her to say something; that's what they were here for._ _

__"I…" Brittany stopped and looked around for a moment. Santana stared at the back of her head. "I don't know what to do."_ _

__Santana remained silent, unclear whether Brittany was talking to her or not. She observed quietly, intently._ _

__"I, uh…guess I should just…talk?" Brittany looked back to Santana for guidance. Santana nodded, her heart breaking at the tears rolling down Brittany's cheeks._ _

__"You can do this, Brittany," she coached._ _

__Brittany turned back and dropped down to her knees. "Well. Dad…" she released a shuddering breath, trying to hold back her sob. "I'm sorry I haven't, like…visited or anything. But this has been really hard for me. You were my best friend." Brittany exhaled shakily again. "My only friend."_ _

__Santana bit her lip, guilt creeping up again; it was her fault. All of it. Brittany hadn't had many friends and it was her fault because she had been insecure about her feelings. Brittany turned to look at her again and said, "Stop. I know what you're thinking. But this isn't about that." Santana nodded and Brittany swiped her hands under her eyes._ _

__"I'm sorry," Santana added for good measure, but Brittany ignored her._ _

__Brittany shifted so that she could sit cross legged. "It gets harder every day, dad. I hate coming home and knowing that I won't be able to tell you about my day…especially when it's been a bad day. But I don't have many of those anymore." Brittany laughed and an easy smile crept onto Santana's face at the sound. "I mean, I haven't exactly made a lot of friends, you know, but no one really screams insults at me now, and I haven't been tripped or pushed or slushied in weeks. School is a lot easier these days."_ _

__Santana lent back against the headstone behind her, gripping the edge hard._ _

__"But, dad…" Brittany paused to clear her throat. "Dad, the thing is…mom has someone new now. And I tried to like him, really I did, but he's such a fucking douche bag, I swear. I know you'd hate him so bad." Brittany giggled quietly, then took a deep breath. "But…he makes mom happy, I guess. I mean, she smiles a lot, and she laughs now." Brittany hung her head and her voice betrayed the resignation that she now felt. "And that's what matters. He's never hit her; he's never called her names or anything. Maybe…maybe this is what's supposed to happen. Maybe I should stop fighting it."_ _

__Santana smiled and nodded to herself, happy that her plan was finally coming together. Brittany's problem all the years that she had rebelled, all the years that she had closed herself in, was that she hadn't dealt with her father's death. She hadn't come here to talk to him, to help herself move on, because she wanted to be stuck in the past, in times where Bryant was still with her._ _

__Brittany turned and held her hand out to Santana. Santana pushed off of the headstone behind her. She stepped up and took Brittany's hand, and Brittany pulled her into her lap. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck and looked at the dark gray stone. Brittany laid her head on Santana's shoulder. "I'm not alone anymore, dad." Santana rubbed the back of Brittany's neck when she heard thick tears in her voice, and Brittany's arms tightened their hold on Santana's waist. "This is Santana. She's my girlfriend, and…these last few weeks, she's made me happier than I have been since you left."_ _

__Santana rested her head against Brittany's, not really believing what she was hearing; after so many years of bullying Brittany, here Brittany was telling her father about how happy Santana made her. Thinking that it would be beneficial to Brittany if she said something, Santana quietly added, "I promise that I will take good care of your daughter, Mr. Pierce. She means the world to me, even if I didn't act like it in the past."_ _

__"So, dad," Brittany said. "I think we can both rest happy now." She sobbed. "I love you." It was all that she could manage before she buried her face in Santana's neck. Santana stroked her hair and face, pulling herself as close as she could manage. Tears wet her neck, and Brittany shook with silent sobs, and Santana suspected that she had never _really_ cried over this._ _

__Finally, Brittany pulled away and wordlessly pushed Santana up. She kissed her fingers and placed them over the engraved rose over her father's name. Then, she silently weaved back to the car. Santana dutifully followed a couple of step behind._ _

__The drive back was silent; Brittany wouldn't turn her gaze from the passing trees, and didn't offer a hand for Santana to grab onto. Santana was beginning to worry that the other girl was mad at her. When she turned into the drive way, it was nearly noon, and Carl's car was still there._ _

__As soon as the door was opened, Brittany headed straight for the entertainment room where Susan and Carl were watching TV. Santana stood back as Brittany stepped in front of Carl and held out her hand. He looked at it, confused. "I'm not ready to hug you yet," Brittany said. Carl scooted closer to the edge of the couch. "But I wanted you to know that…it might to be _terrible_ having you as my stepdad." Carl grinned and wordlessly took Brittany's hand to shake. Susan folded her hands in front of her face and looked up in silent prayer as Brittany left the room._ _

__"Thank you, Santana," Carl said quietly._ _

__"Yes," Susan added tearfully, leaning into Carl. "Thank you so much."_ _

__Santana nodded, smiled, and turned to go upstairs._ _

__\-----_ _

__Rachel prodded at her food, watching cautiously as Quinn tore into the twice-baked potato on her own plate._ _

__"Aren't you going to eat?" Quinn said around a mouthful, and Rachel couldn't help but smile._ _

__"I will, I just…don't understand what this is."_ _

__Quinn stopped mid-chew. "It's vegan lasagna…"_ _

__Rachel laughed lightly. "No, I know," she said quietly, then gestured between them. "I mean this…why you asked me to do this…why I accepted."_ _

__"Well you should eat while you figure it out," Quinn said between chewing. "It's not good cold."_ _

__Rachel, still skeptical, raked a forkful of Quinn's homemade lasagna into her mouth; it was probably the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. "Oh my god."_ _

__"Well, I don't mean to pat myself on the back," Quinn said with a smirk._ _

__Quinn had asked her on Friday afternoon if she could possibly come over and 'hang out'. While she and Rachel had been on pretty good terms lately, Rachel hadn't thought that they were ready for the address and phone number exchanging portion of their friendship. Nevertheless, she had agreed and had hesitantly handed over her address written on a slip of paper. Then she'd dutifully paced her house the entire weekend; Quinn hadn't told her exactly when she'd arrive, just that she'd drop by 'over the weekend'._ _

__Come Sunday afternoon, Rachel had begun to feel as though she'd been stood up when the doorbell had rang and there Quinn was, donning a lovely yellow sundress, picnic basket in hand, claiming that it was _too damn hot_ for a real outdoors picnic, so she thought that maybe they could stay in and eat and chat._ _

__So they had ended up pulling Rachel's coffee table out into the middle of the floor, unloading the picnic basket (full of Rachel's favorite foods – how Quinn knew that, Rachel wasn't quite sure), and sitting on opposite sides to indulge themselves._ _

__"You are an amazing cook," Rachel said. Quinn beamed, which, whoa, totally unexpected._ _

__"Thank you."_ _

__Rachel laid her fork down – it took a couple of tries because she didn't want to stop eating – to regard Quinn. "Can I ask you something?" Quinn nodded. "Why did you do all of this?"_ _

__Quinn begrudgingly put her utensils down. "You mean why did I make a meal and bring it over as quickly as possible so that it wouldn't get cold so that I could have a nice dinner with you?" Rachel nodded. "You don't do this with all of your friends?"_ _

__"No," Rachel said honestly. "And I suspect that you don't either."_ _

__Quinn sighed and reached forward to take Rachel's hand across the width of the table. "Look, I know that Brittany and Santana already aren't that happy with our…very spontaneous friendship." Rachel nodded. Brittany hadn't been happy at all to hear that Rachel had been socializing with the girl who had almost broken her face beyond repair, and had had to hold Santana back from…going all Lima Heights on Rachel. Whatever that meant. "But, how unhappy do you think they would be if I were to…say…ask you to be my girlfriend?"_ _

__Rachel's jaw dropped and she tried to keep the hand in Quinn's grasp from shaking. Never in a million years would she have expected _that_. It was a bit unorthodox, this girl sitting across from her, holding her hand and posing this ridiculous question when just weeks ago they despised each other. "Um…what?"_ _

__"If I asked you," Quinn said. "To be my girlfriend, I mean. How many people would hate us?"_ _

__"Um…" Rachel licked her lips. "I guess that depends on my answer."_ _

__Quinn smiled. "So, hypothetically, if I asked you, what would your answer be? Hypothetically."_ _

__Rachel took her hand back and Quinn frowned, but didn't take her own hand back. "I would say no. Hypothetically."_ _

__"What?" Quinn nearly yelled. "Why?"_ _

__"Quinn, you have done awful things," Rachel said loudly. "And yes, we've been somewhat friends these last few weeks, but a few weeks of friendship cannot simply erase four years of hateful torment, the reasons for which I am still very much unclear about, though I doubt they would justify-"_ _

__"Rachel," Quinn said desperately, cutting Rachel off mid-ramble. She reached for a hand that was promptly pulled away._ _

__"Quinn, what happened to the girl that I used to know?" Rachel asked. She stood to look down at Quinn. "The girl that picked my books up for me in the ninth grade. I want that girl back."_ _

__"Rachel-"_ _

__"You were so nice." Rachel crossed her arms tightly at the memory. "You were so sweet to me. Do you remember that time sitting in English class, I looked over at you and you were staring at me, and you looked away." Quinn averted her eyes. "But then you looked back, but I hadn't looked away. And you smiled. Like, really smiled at me…what happened to you? It was like…you became a cheerleader, and nothing mattered anymore but popularity, and-"_ _

__Quinn jumped up. "I'm trying to change!" Rachel's mouth snapped shut at the outburst. "I'm trying to change for you. If I could take it back I would, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to."_ _

__Rachel swallowed and took a step back. "Well, it's going to take longer than five weeks." Quinn's shoulders slumped. "I love you, Quinn. But I cannot do this…not this early."_ _

__"But Rachel-"_ _

__"Quinn…please leave."_ _

__"Are…" Quinn swallowed and stepped forward. "Are you sure? Can we just pretend I didn't say anything?"_ _

__Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, Quinn." Quinn nodded solemnly. "I think it would be best if you left."_ _

__Quinn sighed and strode past Rachel. "You can, uh…you can keep the food." She turned at the door and fidgeted with her fingers. "You can have it all."_ _

__"Are you-"_ _

__"I'm positive." Then, she turned and left without another word._ _

__Rachel listened as Quinn started her Viper and revved the engine. Her eyes slipped closed._ _

___So close. So, so close_._ _

__\-----_ _

__Santana's eyes popped open. In her sleep, she'd gotten the strangest tingle, one that said _wake up, stupid, someone's watching you_. She turned to look over her shoulder. Brittany had propped her head up on her fist. She was twirling a lock of Santana's hair absently as she stared down at her. They'd gone to bed without saying a word to each other all afternoon and had fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Santana's worry had begun to turn to panic._ _

__"Hey," Santana said, rubbing her eyes._ _

__"Hi," Brittany whispered. Her mouth turned up into a barely-there smile._ _

__Santana rolled over and scooted closer. Brittany's hand dropped to rest between them, her finger drawing patterns on the sheets. "You okay?"_ _

__Brittany nodded, but her eyes stayed on her moving finger. "Yeah. Just…thinking."_ _

__Santana snaked an arm between Brittany and the mattress and pulled her girlfriend closer. She brushed light kisses all over Brittany's face. "Thinking about what?" She whispered against fluttering eyelids. She felt Brittany's smile grow under her chin._ _

__"You." Santana moved back, but Brittany followed to nuzzle her cheek with her nose._ _

__"Me, huh?" Santana asked, trailing a finger down the valley of Brittany's breasts._ _

__"Mhm," Brittany breathed. She kissed Santana's jaw._ _

__"What about me?" Santana asked, hoping her voice didn't give away how insecure she felt about that._ _

__Brittany rubbed the arm draped across her waist affectionately and brought their foreheads together. "About how much I love you."_ _

__Santana pulled away. "You…you do?"_ _

__Brittany smiled and nodded. Santana's heart swelled, pleased that Brittany was finally comfortable enough to say the words. "You did an amazing thing for me. I was too scared to do it, but you were smart enough to plan it and force me to go through with it." Santana's heart swelled some more, knowing she'd never get tired of being told she was smart. "I love you."_ _

__"I love you too." Santana kissed Brittany deeply, her tongue immediately pushing through Brittany's lips. "You're so beautiful," she whispered between kisses._ _

__Brittany pulled away. Her eyes were misty again and her face was red. "Really? You mean it?"_ _

__Santana tucked Brittany's hair behind her ear, letting her fingertips linger on the soft skin of her neck. "I do. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."_ _

__Brittany smiled and pulled Santana on top of her. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find a way to make it up to me."_ _

__Santana smirked as she leaned down to kiss Brittany. "Yes, ma'am."_ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, I have no idea how nose bleeds work, homophobic slurs, I made Karofsky an asshole, smut, they have sex everywhere. Also a slight mention of attempted rape, but it's only fleeting – no description whatsoever.

"The talent show is next Thursday."

"…yeah."

"You don't have a song do you?"

"…nope."

Brittany laughed and stirred the pot one last time. She set the spoon back onto the stove and turned to Santana. "Do you need help?"

Santana thought for a moment, her fingers drumming on the table. "I have an idea. Kind of."

"Well?" Brittany sat across from Santana and took her hand to still her fingers. They were home alone, again, for a few days.

"I was hoping to surprise you with something," Santana said shyly.

Brittany grinned. "Oh really?" Santana nodded, ginning bashfully, and squeezed Brittany's hand. 

Lord Tubbington jumped onto the table and Brittany petted him with her free hand as she pondered Santana's options. For the past few days, Brittany had had a lot on her mind. Exams were the upcoming Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and the talent show was on Thursday afternoon. Preparing Santana for those, plus trying to find a way to really show Santana how much she appreciated what she had done for her…well, it was a lot of pressure on Brittany.

Santana squeezed her hand again, pulling Brittany out of her thoughts. "Hey, don't worry too much about it," Santana said. "I know you're trying to help, but I have a pretty good idea of what I want to do."

"I just want you to do well," Brittany said. She pulled Santana's hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles tenderly. "And win."

Santana smiled and cupped Brittany's face with the hand that had been in Brittany's grasp. "I know, honey," she whispered. "But I think you're already running yourself ragged with exams; preparing two people can't be easy. So don't fret about it anymore. Okay?"

Brittany nodded and smiled.

After dinner, they stretched out together on the couch. Watching _The Back-Up Plan_ , Brittany and Santana ended up engaged in a conversation that neither thought they'd have for a few years.

"I just…really don't want kids."

Brittany snuggled further back into Santana and hummed. "But you love kids." It wasn't really a huge deal, but now that they were talking, Brittany was curious.

"Well, yeah, I know," Santana said. She squeezed Brittany tighter. "But I don't personally want any."

"Why not?"

"Is this going to end up being a _thing_?" Santana asked skeptically. "Because I don't want to fight…"

Brittany tangled her fingers with Santana's over her abdomen. "No, you're allowed to not want kids. I'm just curious since we're on the subject."

Santana sighed. She tucked her chin onto Brittany's shoulder and rested her head against Brittany's. "I don't want to make the same mistakes my parents made," she admitted quietly. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Brittany pulled away and turned to lean her forehead against Santana's temple. She kissed Santana's cheek. "You're not your parents." Santana closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of just having Brittany so close. "Their mistakes are theirs. Not yours."

"Yeah, but…" Santana took a deep breath. "These things repeat and I just-"

"It's okay that you don't want kids," Brittany said again, and Santana nodded. "But I want you to understand that you're not your mom, and you're not your dad. What they did is their fault, and if you don't want it to, it won't repeat in you."

Santana opened her eyes and, grabbing the remote beside of her, stopped the DVD. "Can we just change the subject and the movie?"

Brittany nodded and rose to grab a horror movie. "Okay," she said. She selected a movie and popped it in, but was surprised when she turned around and saw that Santana had all but folded into herself, taking up as little space as possible. She stared blankly ahead at the television, and Brittany sat on the opposite end of the couch. She drew her knees to her chest as the beginning of the movie played and just watched Santana. Her girlfriend was lost in thought, her mood obviously dampened, and Brittany felt bad, even though she hadn't even been the one to bring up the subject.

"I'm sorry," Brittany whispered, and Santana's head shot up to look at her. "Please don't be mad?"

Santana slid down and opened her arms. Brittany crawled on top of her and laid her head on Santana's shoulder. "I'm not mad," Santana said into her hair. "I promise."

Brittany nodded and sank further into Santana and smiled.

She'd finally figured out how to repay Santana.

\-----

It happened on Thursday, three days later. It was shocking, and terrifying, and never in a million years did Santana picture it happening to her.

Santana was standing at her locker alone, working the combination dial when a large shadow fell over her. At first, she'd thought that it was Puck, but he was too tall, too burly, and when she turned around she was shocked to see Dave Karofsky glaring down at her.

"Um." Her eyes darted left and right. The hall had gotten quiet, the only sound being curious whispers and rude snickers. Santana wasn't very well liked anymore, mainly because of her falling out with Quinn. Rumors spread like wildfire, all of them pegging Santana as the bad guy, but no one had really said or done anything to her – yet. She and Brittany weren't out, obviously, but they had held hands and linked pinkies, through the dirty looks, Brittany had been there to hold her hand; now, Brittany was busy talking to some teacher about extra credit or some shit and Santana was alone. "Can I help you?"

"You can tell me why you've gone dyke."

Gasps rang out and Santana could feel her face paling. "I…what…"

Karofsky took a step forward and Santana pressed herself back against her locker. There weren't many people she was afraid of, but this dude, a guy who had spent his entire life shooting steroids and lifting weights, a guy weighed twice as much as Puck? Yeah, she was pretty fucking scared. "Don't play dumb. You're sleeping with that nerd."

"Hey." She tried to keep her voice from trembling. "Whatever this is, it's between me and you. You leave Brittany out of it."

More giggles rang out, and Santana knew; everyone had figured them out, and they weren't going to be as nice to them as they were to Puck and Kurt.

"Why does it matter?" She asked. She looked around at everyone but tried to keep half an eye on Karofsky. "Huh?" She just wished Puck would pop up right now.

"You spent so much time turning everyone against that nerd, and now you're dating her?" Karofsky asked. "I'm going to be the first to be honest and say that that bitch is hot. I admit it. But you made everyone so afraid to get to know her and shit. I mean…I coulda had her, you know? Someone deserving could have had her, but she ended up with you. How does that happen? How do you get the girl you bullied for so long?"

"Wait," Santana said, holding up her hands. "All of this is because you want my girlfriend? Who, might I add, you also bullied, so don't pin all of this on me."

Karofsky shook his head. "No, this is because you're a bitch. You're a hypocrite. And someone has to put you in your place."

Before Santana could think of a witty, sarcastic comeback, Karofsky's fist was hurtling towards her face. His hairy knuckles plowed into her nose, and almost instantly she could feel blood gushing from it. Santana crumpled to the ground. She could hear gasps and whoops of cheers. Covering her bleeding nose, with tears prickling her eyes, Santana looked up; Karofsky was pulling his fist back again, ready to deliver another blow.

She didn't want to show weakness, but damn that had hurt; she would have preferred the slushy that she had been bracing herself for. Just as she was ducking her head, a flash of blonde caught her eye and she whipped her head back up in time to see a slender body slam hard into Karofsky, sending both crashing to the floor. Screams rang out. Karofsky rolled, sending Brittany's willowy frame against the lockers hard. More responsible students ran to get teachers as an angry wail rang loud. Santana wanted to get up, she wanted to make sure that Brittany was okay, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Quinn as her old friend pounced on Karofsky just as he was reaching for Brittany.

Holding her lower back, Brittany rose slowly to her feet and took a few wobbly steps towards the struggling pair. "No!" Quinn yelled at her, and she froze. Quinn had wrapped herself about Karofsky's upper half, her arms wound tightly around his neck. "Go! Get out of here!"

Brittany looked from Santana, who was still holding her nose, to Quinn, and then to Puck, who had just burst through the throng of people. Brittany jerked her head at Santana, and seeing the blood seeping through her fingers was all it took for Puck to join Quinn in holding Karofsky down. "You fucking asshole!" He grunted, bringing his fist down against Karofsky's nose.

"Go!" Quinn said to Brittany again. "We've got this." Teachers were starting to emerge through the crowd, and Brittany reached down to pull Santana up, trying not to lose the contents of her stomach; Santana's nose and the immediate area were already a sick shade of purple. She wrapped her arms around Santana and led her through everyone and to the nurse's office.

"What happened?" Brittany asked hysterically. Santana sat in a hard plastic chair and Brittany fought to pull her hands from her face. She cringed when she saw the blood. "Oh god."

"I was just at my locker," Santana gurgled. Brittany looked around, but the nurse was nowhere to be found. "He just came up and started insulting me, calling me a dyke and telling me that I don't deserve you."

Brittany grabbed a handful of tissues from the nurse's desk. She placed the wad over Santana's nose and pulled her head forward so the blood wouldn't drain down her throat. "That makes no sense," she said angrily. "Why does he care?"

A tear slipped down Santana's face. "He said you're hot," she said. Brittany's face reddened.

"Well," she said quietly. "That's gross. Bestiality is illegal." Despite her pain, Santana smiled. "Plus I'm pretty sure Karofsky's gay, so."

"Are you okay?" Santana asked. Brittany pulled the tissues from Santana's face, her face paling slightly when the blood hadn't stopped. She threw the soiled material away and took another handful from the box.

"There'll be a bruise, but I'll live," she said dismissively.

"I'm gonna kill him," Santana swore. She winced as Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You're not going to kill him," Brittany said around an affectionate laugh. "Where the fuck is the nurse?"

"Brittany, he hurt you," Santana said angrily. "He put his ape hands on you. I am going to _kill_ him."

"San, stop." Santana wrapped her hands around Brittany's neck softly and stroked the skin with her thumbs. Brittany stared at her; the purpling was beginning to spread under Santana's eyes. "I'm okay. Really, I am."

Santana sighed and winced. "Is it broken?" She asked. Brittany pulled the tissues away long enough to inspect and poke at Santana's nose. She shook her head.

"No," She said. "Not broken. But it's going to hurt for a while."

They were quiet for a while as Brittany tried desperately to stop Santana's bleeding nose. The physical pain, however, didn't hurt nearly as bad as Karofsky's words. Did she really not deserve Brittany? The thought had crossed her mind briefly a few times, but she had always been distracted by Brittany's _everything_ before she could dwell too much on it. Now that it was out there she couldn't help but feel less than deserving.

Santana pulled Brittany to her and rested their foreheads together (which was awkward because of the hand and the wad of tissues between them). "Tell me I'm worth it," she whispered. Brittany tried to pull away, but Santana refused to let go and she could see Brittany's eyebrows furrow. "Tell me that I deserve you, that I deserve to be happy."

"If you didn't I wouldn't be here," Brittany said incredulously. Santana's face scrunched and she shook her head, sending a jolt of pain through her nose. She finally allowed Brittany to pull away. "Look at me," Brittany whispered, and Santana did as she was told. "I love you so much. And you love me. Who cares what Karofsky says?" When Santana didn't respond, Brittany sighed. "I…I have a surprise for you. I was going to wait until this weekend…but this obviously can't wait."

Brittany smiled when Santana's eyes lit up. "You do?" Brittany nodded. "A good surprise?" Santana's heart raced, hundreds of possibilities running though her mind.

Brittany shrugged. "It's what you make of it," she said cryptically.

Though obviously discouraged that she wasn't going to get a hint, Santana's enthusiasm didn't subside. Brittany pulled the tissues away one last time. The blood flow had finally stopped, so Brittany side stepped to the sink and wet a paper towel. She cleaned the dried blood from Santana's face, and took her hand to lead her out of the school. The crowd had dispersed for classes, and Santana sidled closer to Brittany.

"Do you think Quinn and Puck will get in trouble?" Santana asked. They broke through the double doors. The morning sun was already blazing, the air humid and uncomfortable.

Brittany helped her into the car, and then climbed into the driver's seat. "Honestly, I think the best way to help them is for you to tell what happened." She started the car and backed out of her space. "Tell them what Karofsky did and that they were only trying to help."

"That was…really cool of Quinn," Santana said. She couldn't believe that the scene she had witnessed had involved Quinn – _nice Quinn_ – on their side.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. She reached over and took Santana's hand tightly. "It was." She'd been surprised to look up and see Quinn wrestling with Karofsky instead of jumping on her instead. She'd heard Quinn scream angrily, and had instantly recognized the sound. She had mentally prepared herself for a throw down, but it hadn't happened. "People change. But we already knew that." Brittany glanced at her fondly and pulled Santana's hand to her mouth to kiss each of her knuckles.

Santana bounced in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement. "What's the surprise? Where are we going?"

Brittany laughed as questions flew from Santana's mouth. "Shhhh," she shushed. "I can't tell you!"

"But-"

"No." Santana pouted. "We've got a long drive so you better settle in."

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

Santana threw her head back against the seat. "How long?" She whined.

"A good hour and a half." Santana groaned. "Maybe more." Santana groaned again, louder and longer this time.

"Am I going to like it?" Santana purred, leaning closer. Brittany's cheeks colored at the insinuation, but she didn't say anything. "Aw, c'mon, give me a hint!"

Brittany swallowed; Santana's hand was inching up her thigh. She grabbed the wandering digits and held them tightly. "Well, I'm sorry to say that it's not _that_."

Santana sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, a pout playing on her lips. "That's no fun."

Brittany remained silent. Santana was most likely going to hate her. She would probably pitch a hell of a fit. After a lot of searching and Googling, Brittany had called, she had gotten the story – the real story – and she had set up this little surprise. It was up to Santana to take it from there. It was the only way that she could think to show Santana that she appreciated her help in coming to terms with her dad's death, and she just hoped Santana understood.

The drive seemed longer than it should have. Santana fired off questions and guesses rapidly, some of them hitting too close to the actual surprise for Brittany's liking. She smiled, shook her head, pretended to contemplate, and pretended to give in, but for the entirety of the drive, Brittany tried to remain silent, so she wouldn't let her nervousness show.

About forty-five minutes into the drive, Santana made Brittany lock the doors when they entered the Lima Heights district, and it was close to four o'clock when Brittany finally pulled past a sign that read _Lima Heights Adjacent_. Santana turned to watch it pass in amazement; while Lima Heights was the roughest neighborhood in Lima, Lima Heights Adjacent was the richest, the most upscale. Santana couldn't believe that they were actually entering the housing development. "You didn't!" She squealed.

Brittany turned confused, panicked eyes to her girlfriend. In hindsight, Brittany thought that, duh, of course Santana would figure out the surprise once she saw the name of the place, but the rational part of her screamed to make sure. "Didn't what?"

"You bought us a house!"

Brittany let out the breath she'd been holding and barked out a laugh. "Hardly," she said. She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and glanced at it. She'd known how to get to the Estates, having passed them several times the past few years heading to April's. The layout of the roads in the development was like a maze; she'd been warned about that, and she had been given specific directions that were supposed to guide her from the very beginning of the development to her destination. She followed the curves of the road, took a left turn, and glanced down again. From the corner of her eye, Brittany could see Santana becoming restless.

"Britt," she said, her voice suddenly quiet. "Please tell me where we're going."

"It's a surprise," Brittany mumbled, looking at the paper by her leg again.

Santana watched the trees, the fancy houses, the ornamental mailboxes. She'd never been here before, but the further Brittany drove into this ridiculous maze, the more she began to think she had an idea of what was happening. And she knew she didn't fucking like it.

"You tell me where we're going right now."

"By the tone of your voice," Brittany said. She glanced left, the right, looking at house numbers. "I'd guess that you already know."

"Brittany," Santana said seriously, grabbing for the sleeve of Brittany's shirt. "Brittany, do not."

Brittany, finally finding the address, turned into the driveway. "Come on," she said, opening her door. "He's waiting."

"I'm not doing this," Santana said angrily. "And I'll never forgive you for planning this!"

Pain flashed in Brittany's eyes, but she turned to Santana. "You'll thank me, I swear."

"I'm not going into that house." Santana looked out the passenger window. The neo-eclectic house was built of white stone, the front door and shutters were painted black, and the sight made Santana queasy; how dare he get to live such a lavish life? "He abandoned me when I needed him most."

"Santana-"

"How could you betray me like this?" Santana snapped. Brittany jumped at the outburst. "How could…how could you think I'd agree to this?"

"I agreed to talk to my dad," Brittany said, stepping out of the car. "The least you could do is talk to yours."

Santana stepped out of the car and slammed her door hard. "Fine, but from here on out, I'm so fucking pissed I can't even."

Though rattled, Brittany knew that by the end of the day, Santana would change her mind.

Santana crossed her arms tightly as Brittany rang the doorbell. Brittany slipped an arm around Santana, but Santana shrugged it off. Not to be discouraged, Brittany hip bumped Santana. Santana chanced an angry glance at Brittany and, when Brittany winked playfully, she was barely able to contain her smile. _Damn her_.

The doorknob rattled; Santana tensed. A girl, younger than the both of them, appeared. Her eyes, the same shape and color of Santana's, widened. Brittany could see Santana's resolve crumbling already.

"Santana?" The girl asked, obviously not believing her eyes. "San…is that really you?"

Santana stared at the girl in front of her. Santana hadn't seen her in years, hadn't even spoken to her since she'd decided to move in with their father. This wasn't the same sister that had walked out angrily on their mother; Carmen was practically a woman herself now. Santana's arms dropped to her sides as Carmen lunged forward and wrapped her thin arms around her neck. Santana threw her arms around her sister's waist. She'd missed Carmen, and just as she was wondering where Manny was, his head popped out from around the door.

"Santana?" He asked, his eyes lighting up. "Dad!" He called behind himself and into the house. "Santana's here!" Then, he lunged forward, enveloping both of his sisters in his arms. Brittany stepped to the side, giving the siblings room. Santana held her brother and sister tightly, and Brittany thought that she heard her girlfriend sob.

Her siblings crushed her, making it impossible for Santana to breathe, but she didn't care. When they'd left, they'd promised that they'd call; that call had never come, and Santana had had no number to call them instead. She'd wondered why every day since, but had tried not to dwell on it. They probably just didn't want to deal with Maribel.

"Santana." Manny and Carmen pulled away, leaving Santana face to face with Ricardo Lopez. She stared at him, her face completely stone. Her father was actually misty eyed, and he stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter the house. Manny and Carmen passed, dragging Santana by her hands and chatting over each other about having so much to tell her. Ricardo smiled at Brittany and gestured for her to follow.

"You must be the young lady I spoke on the phone with," he said, and Santana, having heard, threw Brittany a dirty look over her shoulder. Brittany smiled at her.

"Yes sir," Brittany said. "I'm Brittany. But I think I'll wait in my car for-"

"Nonsense," Ricardo said, rushing her in. He shut the door then lowered his voice. "I think this will be easier for her if you're here." Brittany nodded.

"I thought you weren't coming until Saturday," Ricardo said. He led her to follow his three children into the den. "Or I would have cleaned up a bit."

"I'm sorry for just dropping in," Brittany said, watching Santana, loving the way her face had softened as she, Manny, and Carmen talked over each other. "But a football player attacked her this morning." Ricardo's jaw set angrily, and it seemed as if he'd only just realized the unnatural color of Santana's nose. "He punched her in the nose and said some terrible things to her. She was feeling down, and I thought it'd be good to bring her now. She's…not happy with me, though."

Ricardo sighed and nodded before leading Brittany to sit on the couch. He approached Santana. "Sweetheart…"

Santana rounded on him, her conversations with her siblings forgotten. "Don't."

"Listen to him," Manny encouraged.

"Please?" Carmen added. "You don't know the entire story, Santana."

"I know enough to know that he bailed on us," Santana insisted, and Ricardo pressed his lips together tightly. "He left us with that crazy-" She stopped as she caught Brittany's eye. Her girlfriend wordlessly pleaded with her, asking her to do this for _them_. Santana huffed. "Fine." She crossed the room, past Ricardo, and plopped angrily beside Brittany. Brittany reached for her, but Santana rolled her eyes at her and pulled away. Brittany sighed sadly, but didn't push her girlfriend.

Ricardo sat across from them, and Carmen and Manny made themselves comfortable on the floor. "Well, tell me everything," Ricardo said, clapping his hands together.

"Oh," Santana said, feigning cheeriness. "Okay. Well, every day for seven years my mother woke me up before five a.m. Her work out regime and meal plan with minimal food nearly killed me, but gee golly I'm a much better person because of it!"

"Santana…"

Santana ignored Brittany. "And then, oh man this was the greatest, she let random men into our house _while she was drunk_. And then I came home one night and one of them tried to attack me, but it's a damn good thing my bedroom door was sturdy enough to withstand him throwing himself against it."

Everyone stared at her, jaws slack, and Brittany tearfully said, "You…you never told me about that…"

Again, Santana ignored her. It wasn't something that she liked thinking about. She didn't want to get stuck on worrying what could have happened to her that night, what the man had had in mind for her. "I think what takes the cake though, is being slapped by my own mother and tossed out onto the street."

Ricardo ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, attempting to hide that it was trembling violently. "Santana, I…I don't know what to say…"

"Tell me," Santana demanded, pounding her fist on her thigh. "Tell me why you left me there. I need to know."

Ricardo raked his hands through his thinning hair. "Our problems started years before I left," he began. "Your mother was steadily becoming an alcoholic. I was finding drugs in the house, and when confronted Maribel claimed to have no knowledge of them. It got progressively worse over the years until one night we ended up screaming at each other. I left the bedroom; I wanted to go downstairs and cool off before I'd say or do something that I'd regret." Brittany took Santana's hand and held tightly. "But Maribel followed me, and tried to push me down the stairs."

"You're lying," Santana said loudly. Ricardo seemed unphased.

"I'm not."

"He's not," Manny, Carmen, and Brittany said at the same time.

"I fought her off and ran out," Ricardo continued, and a tear slipped down his face at the memory. Brittany could see Santana's face softening; Ricardo couldn't fake the pain he was showing. "She told me that if I ever came back she'd call the police."

Santana huffed. "All of that might be true," she relented. "But…you just left. You didn't call, you didn't fight for us, for me." She pointed to her siblings. "Hell, even they said that they would call and they never did."

"I tried to fight for you!" Ricardo insisted loudly, startling Santana. "I tried my hardest to gain custody of you kids." Santana's shoulders slumped. "Your mother cried abuse and I lost full custody. Hell, Manny and Carmen weren't supposed to come here, but when I heard what your mother was doing I had to take them. And I wanted to take you, I swear I did, but she said that you were happy where you were. I tried to call-"

"So did Manny and me," Carmen said.

"But Maribel never let us speak to you," Ricardo said. "If she wasn't ignoring the calls, she was picking up the phone and laying it off the hook."

Brittany squeezed Santana's shaking hand. Santana mulled over Ricardo's words for a moment, remembering all the times she'd walked by the phone, confused as to why it was turned on but just lying on the table. It definitely sounded like something her mom would have done. "So…all these years I thought you didn't want me…you were…"

"Fighting for you," Ricardo filled in tearfully. "Santana, Maribel told me that you were happy, and I called every single day, hoping that I would eventually get you on the phone so that you could confirm it yourself. I was calling lawyers across the country, offering to pay any amount of money…but no one wanted to help me."

Tears fell down Santana's blank face and Brittany rubbed her arm. "Are you okay?" She whispered.

After a minute, Santana said, "This is Brittany." Ricardo nodded. "I'm living with her and she's my girlfriend. Mom kicked me out because I'm gay." Brittany's mouth dropped and her eyes widened in disbelief. Personally she had thought that it was a bit too early to divulge that information, and she merely told Ricardo that she was Santana's best friend; now she didn't want to be on Santana's father's bad side for lying. Not to mention that she hadn't known for sure until that moment that that was the exact reason for Santana being kicked out. "So if you have a problem with that, speak now, because I swear…I won't be able to watch you walk away again later. I can't…"

Ricardo nodded and smiled, tears finally streaming down his face. Then, he stood and held his arms out. Santana, not fully trusting her shaking legs, stayed seated until Brittany gave her a small push. Santana rose and stepped forward, hesitantly falling into her father's arms. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. She clung to his shirt and sobbed, feeling his tears in her hair. "I don't," he sobbed. "I don't have a problem with it at all. I love you, Santana."

Manny and Carmen rose, and Brittany stood between them, an arm around each of their shoulders as they watched Santana Ricardo silent cry and hug each other. "So…" Carmen said. "Are you gonna be our sister-in-law?" Brittany's face reddened.

Santana, now laughing, pulled away from Ricardo. "I'm working on it," she said honestly, and Brittany's eyes lit up, but still had a glint of skepticism. Santana smiled and winked at her.

As they all came together, chatting excitedly, Brittany caught Santana's eye over Carmen's head and returned her wink.

Everything would be okay.

\-----

Santana held Brittany's hand tightly during the drive home, but didn't say a word. Ricardo, her _father_ , had offered her a home, a place to live until she went to college. Santana promised him that she'd consider the offer, but really, she didn't want to be anywhere that Brittany wasn't. It just was not an option for her.

When things were beginning to look familiar to her, Brittany finally piped up. "How's your nose?"

Santana turned her gaze from the trees passing her window to Brittany. "Hurts," she said quietly. "I can feel my heartbeat in my face…"

Brittany smiled sympathetically. "We'll have mom look at it in the morning," she said. "Just to be sure it's not broken."

"Just so you know," Santana said suddenly, nearly cutting Brittany off. Brittany froze, waiting for the angry rant that was sure to follow. "When we get home I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk right tomorrow."

Brittany's eyes grew large and her pale cheeks colored pink. "Um…not that I'd ever complain…but…why?"

Santana squeezed Brittany's hand. "Because of you, I found my family today." She released Brittany's hand and trailed her own up Brittany's thigh. "You…you brought me back to my father and my siblings, and I love you so much. You deserve a reward. Since the Nobel Peace Prize is probably out of the question…I have to find another way, and that's the best way I know how." Brittany nodded. Santana leaned over and whispered into her ear, "First against a wall." Brittany swallowed against the lump in her throat, Santana's hot breath making it hard to concentrate. "Then on the desk." Santana cupped Brittany over her jeans and pressed her fingers against Brittany hard.

"As hot as that is," Brittany breathed. We still have about a forty-five minute drive until we're home."

"Pull over then." Santana smirked.

"Uh…"

"Kidding," Santana said with a laugh. She moved back into her own seat and placed her hand on Brittany's inner thigh, innocently staring out the window again. Brittany gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, shuddering whenever Santana would squeeze or her fingers would drift a little higher.

"So," Brittany said, trying to break the tension in the car. "Are you-" Santana squeezed again and Brittany had to bite back a moan. "-gonna go live with your dad?"

"Nope," Santana said simply. Brittany glanced at her curiously. "I mean, I'm glad things are sorted, and, yeah, I want to visit him. But my home is where you are."

Brittany was silent, and as she glanced at her, Santana could see that Brittany’s face was graced with the largest smile she’d ever seen the girl wear.

“I mean that,” Santana added quietly, loosening her grip on Brittany’s thigh and rubbing in circles instead.

“You know,” Brittany said, the smile never leaving her face. “Last year, if someone would have told me that we’d be where we are now, I probably would have moved away.”

Santana laughed. “I would have punched them in the face, honestly. But we’re here.”

“I’m not pulling over.”

Santana took her hand back and nearly doubled over with laughter.

\-----

Her back hit the mattress with a dull thud, hard enough to knock the wind from her. They’d done it roughly against the wall and twice on the desk, just as Santana had promised, but Santana seemed to have no intention of stopping.

“Sa-Santana.” Brittany shuddered as Santana’s hand returned to the sensitive space between her legs. A small cry left her lips and she wrapped her trembling legs around Santana. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

Santana’s hand slowed and she smirked at the sound of frustration Brittany released. “I know, baby,” she husked against Brittany’s breast. She swirled her tongue around an already fatigued nipple, pressed hard against Brittany’s overstimulated clit, and Brittany came undone again, nails digging into Santana’s shoulders as her body went rigid and she grunted before sighing contentedly.

Santana pulled her hand back and crawled back up to kiss Brittany roughly. “Santana,” Brittany gasped, but Santana was kissing her way downward again. “Santana – AH – Santana s-stop.” She tangled her fingers in Santana’s hair and pulled her back up. Santana moaned at the act. “Wait.”

Santana smirked. “Too much?” Suddenly, Brittany flipped them over.

“No.” She pinned Santana down and latched her lips onto Santana’s neck. “But damn, give me a minute to return the favor.”

“No…I told you,” Santana gasped. “I’m thanking you.”

“Shh,” Brittany shushed, and began to kiss her way down.

“But-”

“Shh,” Brittany shushed again more forcefully. She wasted no time in darting her tongue out to lick through Santana’s folds, and Santana arched off of the bed. Brittany held her hips down. She flattened her tongue and pressed hard against Santana’s slit, making sure to dip the tip of it inside just a little bit. Santana tried to cant her hips, but Brittany pushed her down harder.

"More," Santana begged and tangled her fingers in Brittany's hair. Having watched Brittany come so many times, even riding Brittany's thigh hadn't been quite enough to push Santana over, but she knew that it wouldn't take much more than that. Brittany laughed, her breath making Santana shudder, and pulled back, fighting against Santana's insistent hands.

"Oh, so you want it _now_?" Brittany quipped.

Santana scowled and tugged Brittany's hair roughly, emitting a strangled cry from her girlfriend. "Yes," she panted. "Now eat me or I'll pull your hair out." Brittany snorted at her eloquence, but Santana pulled her hair again and she retaliated by suddenly delving two fingers deep into Santana. Santana arched, her grip loosened, and she almost lost it right then. Brittany bowed her head and began to flick her tongue against Santana's clit in time with her pumping fingers, just light enough to keep Santana squirming on the edge. Her free hand snaked up and began to knead a breast, pinching the nipple just to hear Santana gasp.

Santana bucked, and Brittany's tongue hit her at just the right angle. Santana's eyes rolled back and she cried out. Brittany continued her motions, bringing Santana down, then pulled out and pouted. "Well, that was no fun."

Santana's chest heaved. "You're kidding right?" Brittany smirked and licked her lips clean. Santana moaned.

Brittany crawled up to lay beside of her. "School tomorrow?"

Santana groaned loudly and slapped a hand over her eyes. "You just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm, and you want to go and ruin it with school talk?"

Brittany splayed her fingers across Santana's abs. "The conversation would have been a lot shorter if you'd said either 'yes' or 'no', you know."

"It depends."

Brittany cocked an eyebrow. "On what exactly?"

"If we don't go, can we stay here and have sex all day?"

Brittany laughed loudly and pulled Santana on top of her. "I think it can be arranged."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brittany and Rachel are a little bratty, almost sex, and I picked _Songbird_ \- and all of the other talent show acts – because I'm super creative and original – though I did end up re-writing a lot of the talent show portion of this chapter because the original song was _Valerie_ , but I realized I liked _Songbird_ better for this. I threw Jesse in at the end to avoid another OC. Also during my re-read I realized that their college stuff should have been cleared up way before now, but that was an oversight on my part.

The following Saturday was not a good day.

Rachel stopped by to inform them that, after several all-night phone conversations, setting ground rules and boundaries, laying feelings on the line, and a lot of shed tears, she and Quinn were now an official couple.

Brittany was less than amused.

"How could you be with…with…with _her_?"

Rachel crossed her arms and tried to look anywhere but at Brittany. "Well…I mean-"

"After everything she's done to you?" Brittany asked. "To me?"

They were standing in the foyer and Rachel was making sure to keep her back to the door and half an eye on Santana, standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway.

"Quinn's trying to change."

Brittany snorted. "Yeah. Right."

Rachel's head snapped up. "It's true, Brittany." Rachel uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips indignantly. "You don't know her like I do-"

"I do know that she tried to rearrange my face _and_ she trashed my glasses!"

"And she's sorry!"

"Well why haven't I heard that?"

They were screaming now, and, desperate to diffuse the situation, Santana took a step forward. "Guys, c'mon," she said gently. Rachel and Brittany stopped screaming, but were now staring daggers at each other. "Brittany, you and I need to have a talk about you overreacting." Brittany opened her mouth to retort, but Santana didn't give her the opportunity. "And Rachel, you don't know Quinn like I do. She's not going to change at the drop of a hat."

Rachel's face began to turn beet red, matching Brittany's ears, and Santana figured that, if it were possible for smoke to gush from one's ears, it would be happening to Rachel at that very moment.

"You can't be angry at me for being with Quinn," Rachel said. She pointed to Santana, and Santana realized that Rachel had completely forgotten about her presence until she'd spoken up. "Because you're with _her_."

The malice in her voice sent Santana reeling. "Ouch," She mumbled, obviously hurt; it seemed to add more fuel to Brittany's anger.

"Rude," she said sharply, and Rachel scoffed.

"Excuse me." Rachel drew out the words and placed an exaggerated hand on her chest for a moment before pointing an accusing finger at Santana. "But is this not the girl that gave you hell for ten years?" Brittany fell silent and Santana fidgeted nervously. It was an uncomfortable subject for both of them, and Santana hated when it was brought up, fearing that Brittany might change her mind about her. "For years she and her friends slushied you. She tripped you, called you a nerd, pushed you into lockers, knocked your things out of your hands and kicked them around the hallways. Did you just magically forget about all of that?"

Brittany crossed her arms. "It's not the same thing."

"How?" Rachel pleaded. "How is it not the same thing? Yes, Quinn has done horrible things…but you seem to think that Santana made some magical turn around, so why can't Quinn?"

"Because Quinn's a bitch," Brittany spat. Her eyes darted to Santana, and Santana's heart leapt nervously.

"So is she," Rachel whispered, pointing to Santana once again.

Brittany turned a frightening shade of purple, and Santana almost sidled over to tell her to calm down before she blew an artery. Rachel, apparently done with the conversation, reached behind her – she was careful to not put her back to either of them, though she didn’t think that Brittany would actually hurt her – and opened the door.

“You’re all about loving people,” Rachel said to Brittany. “And being open-minded. I thought you’d be a little more accepting of her.” She turned to leave, but stopped halfway, still looking towards the driveway and not at Brittany. “You don’t have many friends, Brittany. It’s not smart to turn away the ones you _do_ have.” Then, she slammed the door and was gone.

Brittany’s lip trembled and Santana sighed; she hated seeing Brittany upset, especially since they’d helped each other make so much progress.

Santana uncrossed her arms and approached Brittany slowly. She placed her hands on Brittany’s hips and kissed her bare shoulder. “I don’t like it either,” she whispered against Brittany’s skin. “But they’re going to do what they want. There’s no use in getting upset. Okay?”

Brittany turned her face as Santana tried to kiss her. “Why did you let her say those things about you?”

Santana gripped Brittany’s hips tighter. “Because they’re true,” she said solemnly. “I am a bitch. Maybe not to you anymore…but there have been times when I’ve thought about pushing Rachel down the school’s emergency stairs.” Santana was only half joking, but as Brittany turned from her, she realized that this was not the time. “Brittany, its okay. It is.”

Brittany began pacing the floor, her hands wringing together tightly in front of her. "She can't be with Quinn," she mumbled to herself. "Quinn will only hurt her."

"We don't know that."

"Don't we?" Brittany asked, stopping for only a second. Her hands mounted on her hips and she resumed her pacing. "I mean, she's a terrible person and-"

"And she saved you from getting into trouble less than a week ago," Santana filled in. "If it was known that you are the one that jumped on Karofsky you'd be suspended for the rest of the year, even if you were saving my butt." Brittany finally stopped and fixed her hard gaze on Santana. Santana took a step forward cautiously. "I changed. You were good for me, and I changed. Maybe all Quinn needs is someone to love her. And, you know, obviously Sam was not that person."

Brittany bit her lip and looked away. She didn't think that it was wrong to have a grudge against someone who had broken into her house, someone who had threatened to end her…someone who had tried to punch her in the face just because she existed. Rachel had no right to say that their situations were similar; Santana had never done any of those things.

"Maybe Rachel will be good for Quinn," Santana continued. She reached out and began to rub circles on Brittany's sides with her palms. "Maybe we should give her a chance."

Brittany sighed irritably and cupped Santana's neck, not having a clue what to do with her hands. "I'm just…"

"I know, baby," Santana murmured and pulled Brittany closer. Brittany leaned down to place her forehead on Santana's and closed her eyes. "I know you're worried about her. But we'll be here to keep them both in line. Okay?"

Reluctantly, Brittany nodded and Santana kissed her cheek fondly; Brittany pulled away. "I'm just gonna go to bed."

Santana wound her arms around Brittany to keep her in place, though she knew that, if it came down to it, there wouldn't be much a struggle since Brittany was so much stronger than her. "But it's only three o'clock…"

Brittany reached around her back, grabbed Santana's wrists, and unwrapped her lithe arms. "I know, I just…I want to lay down for a bit."

Santana dropped her arms to her sides and watched dejectedly as Brittany trudged up the stairs. They didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and it saddened Santana. A lot of the time, little things turned into big things, and, though she knew she shouldn't worry about it because they loved each other, sometimes she couldn't help it.

But after all, this argument had nothing to do with them. It was something that ultimately needed to be worked out between Rachel and Quinn, and Rachel and Brittany, and as much as Santana wanted to help, she couldn't, not really. All she could hope to do was be there for Brittany in case things didn't quite turn out how everyone wanted them to. The girl didn't have many friends to beginning with (the pang of guilt hit Santana again, but she brushed it off; it would _always_ be there no matter what), and losing just one of the few she _did_ have could potentially leave her girlfriend in shambles.

Santana waited until she heard their bedroom door close – a little too loudly – before sighing and slowly climbing the stairs; if Brittany was going to cry, she wasn't going to do it alone. Santana opened the door slowly, giving Brittany the time to ask her to leave. When Brittany, lying facing the wall, didn't say a word, but almost seemed to relax at the sound of Santana entering, Santana closed the door quietly and padded across the floor.

Santana rounded to the other side and slipped into Brittany's arms. Surprisingly, she wasn't crying, but Santana cupped her face and stroked Brittany's cheeks with her thumbs anyways. She rained kisses all over Brittany's face, lingering on her eyelids and the corners of her mouth. Brittany pulled her closer and slid her hands up Santana's shirt to caress the bare skin of her back. Without opening her eyes, Brittany leaned forward until their lips were barely touching and whispered, "I love you…so much," before closing the gap.

Santana let Brittany assault her lips hungrily for a second, knowing that the feeling of her would be good for Brittany and vice versa, and then pushed her away slightly.

"Are you okay now?" Brittany nodded slightly after a short hesitation, and Santana nuzzled her cheek. "It'll be okay. I promise you that."

This time, when Brittany nodded, there was no hesitation.

\-----

Santana aced her trigonometry exam, her history exam, and had received high B's on her Chemistry II, English IV AP, and French II exams.

(Brittany, of course, aced all of her exams.)

All that stood in Santana's way was dance. Months of tutoring, countless hours working her ass off in Brittany's basement, aching muscles, sleepless nights…it all boiled down to the next few moments.

Santana stood just offstage watching Tina perform her dance. Santana found herself trying to mentally send good luck vibes across the stage. Not that Tina needed it, however; she'd had Mike with her every step of the way, coaching her, pushing her to her limits, just as Santana had had Brittany.

Tina came to a stop, breathing heavily, and Santana could hear Ms. Pillsbury's tiny hands clapping enthusiastically. Words were exchanged before Tina made her way to Santana, who offered her own almost silent applause. Tina, obviously surprised at the nice change of personality, smiled shyly at Santana and headed back to the dressing rooms.

Santana took a deep breath and shook out her trembling hands; she was up next.

 _I need a B_ , she told herself. _I don’t need to be perfect; I just need a B_.

Santana took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadow of the stage curtain. Her terrified gaze fell on Ms. Pillsbury, just one of three judges – Santana was relieved to see Coach Beiste – her absolute favorite gym teacher – and Mr. Schue, the Spanish teacher and Glee club instructor. The two of them would probably be a little more forgiving than any of the other possibilities that had been running through her mind.

Ms. Pillsbury smiled encouragingly at her. “Whenever you’re ready, Santana,” she called, and Santana could see her slip her crossed fingers under the table.

Santana swallowed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. She nodded to let them know that she was ready. As the music started, Santana caught a glimpse of a silhouette, hovering just in the back of the auditorium, and she smiled to herself; it could only be Brittany, who had promised that she would try to talk her way out of American Government early, after her own exam.

Though she was still nervous, having Brittany there made what she needed to do seem familiar. Her tasks, the things weighing most heavily on her mind – passing this exam, graduating, going to college – all seemed to melt away, and she began to move. She flitted across the stage weightlessly, recalling notes that Brittany had instilled in her along the way.

_Lift your right foot higher._

_Don’t bend your knees so much._

_Back straight!_

_Close your eyes. Hang on to my voice. Bend your arm a bit…feet apart. Now…let me go. And just feel the music._

Santana tuned out everything but the music, the notes floating around her, and she imagined Brittany twirling with her, guiding her, silently instructing her. She remembered Brittany, breathing next to her ear, smiling against her skin when she did something right, something breathtaking, something even she didn’t think she could accomplish. 

She kept Brittany close, right to the end when her feet touched the floor for the final time and she put her arms up to show that she was done. Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue rose to their feet, clapping enthusiastically, just as they had for Tina. Coach Beiste clapped just as enthusiastically, but remained seated. Santana grinned broadly.

"Well, done, Santana," Ms. Pillsbury gushed. "Very well indeed!"

Santana was completely speechless, and she hoped her smile said what she couldn't as she glanced to the back of the auditorium. Brittany was gone, but Santana didn't dwell on it; she figured Brittany would be waiting for her backstage.

"Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury," Santana finally said before darting off behind the curtain. Kurt was waiting for her with shining eyes and open arms. She ran to him and grabbed his hands, squeezing happily. "Did you see?" She jabbered. "Did you see me?"

"I did!" He exclaimed. He pulled her to him and wrapped her in a tight hug. "You were amazing! I knew you could do it."

"Do you think you passed?" Tina asked, approaching with Mike.

Santana's smile faltered. She'd felt like she'd done well, and everyone else seemed to think so as well. But that didn't mean she'd gotten the B that she needed.

"I don't know," she said quietly. She turned her head to look over her shoulder; a junior was just starting his routine, and she turned back. "I only needed a B but…"

Kurt gripped her shoulders. "You," he said, shaking her a bit. "Were amazing, okay? You passed with flying colors."

Santana heaved a relieved sigh; she still wasn't sure, but Kurt's words calmed her nerves a bit. She looked around. "Where's Brittany?"

Kurt drew his eyebrows together. "Probably in class," he said, like that was absolutely the only place Brittany would be. "Why?"

Santana stood on her tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brittany further away. "When I was out there, Brittany was hanging in the back of the auditorium."

"Are you sure it was her?" Kurt began looking for their friend. "I mean, you know Brittany better than I, but I doubt she'd skip class while actually at school."

Santana pressed her lips together tightly; she'd been so sure. "Yeah…yeah, I guess you're right."

\-----

"I think you should forgive me."

Brittany cocked an eyebrow. "Well, good afternoon to you too."

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm being serious." She folded her arms and watched Brittany empty the remnants of her locker into her bag. "You are being very close-minded and I don't appreciate it, Brittany Sus-"

"I was going to apologize before you began lecturing me." Brittany tried to hide her smile behind her hair.

"Oh," Rachel said dumbly. "Well?"

Brittany slung her bag over her shoulder and looked Rachel over. There were no obvious bruises, no sign of any injury at all…and Rachel's eyes were bright, shining like Brittany had never seen them shine before. Could Quinn really be the cause of… _that_?

"I'm sorry," Brittany said. Rachel looked shocked, like she hadn't _really_ expected an apology. Brittany closed her locker and hefted her bag further onto her shoulder. "I was wrong, and I'll try to be supportive of…whatever you guys are."

"Girlfriends," Rachel said primly, then grinned. "Just like you and Santana." Brittany's ears tinged pink and Rachel laughed at her.

"Yeah, well," Brittany mumbled, unsure whether or not she should be offended at having her relationship compared to Quinn’s. Then decided to reverse the subject. "I'm going to be watching her closely," she said with a weighted shrug. "Just so you know."

Rachel's face split into a smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way." She looped her arm through Brittany's and led her to the parking lot.

\-----

"Thanks for giving me a ride today." Santana clicked her seatbelt and threw her bag into the back of the jeep. 

Puck slid his seat closer to the steering wheel and started the engine. "It's no problem. You know that." He backed out of his parking space. "But can I ask why you wanted to ride with me and not your girlfriend?"

She regarded him for a moment, thankful that he hadn't gotten into much trouble after the Karofsky incident. After Brittany and Santana had gone to Principal Figgins and told their side of the story, Puck and Quinn had gotten off with only a suspension from the football game that followed that Saturday night, a much better punishment than was given to Karofsky, who wasn't allowed near the field – or the school – for the rest of the year. He was missing all of his exams, Santana remembered, so he'd have to retake all of that semester's classes in the fall, effectively making sure he couldn't graduate with their class, but Santana couldn't find it in her to feel even the tiniest bit sorry.

Santana pouted. "We never hang out anymore." Puck glanced at her, waiting for her to continue. "And I miss you?" Puck smirked. "Okay. Okay. The talent show is Thursday."

Puck snorted loudly and Santana scoffed. "There's the kicker. You need someone to tell you that you're amazing, right?"

"Well-"

"Someone's got a big head and they need me – the man – to make a little bit bigger."

"Shut up," Santana said loudly. "I'm just…I'm really nervous, okay?" Puck dropped his joking demeanor; Santana didn't get this way on a regular basis, so when she did, he knew he needed to _try_ to be serious.

"What about Brittany?" He asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "Why aren't you talking to her about this?"

Santana turned in her seat and fidgeted. "She's said about all she can say, you know?" Santana hung her head.

"Should we be worried that you're going off the deep end or…"

Santana looked up, clearly not amused. "You're such an asshole."

"You love me." Puck reached over and took her hand. "What's up, though? Seriously. You never get this worked up."

She told him about how nervous she was, how jittery she got at the mere thought, how her heart pounded and she felt like she might lose her lunch, and how she was actually having second thoughts about performing in the talent show at all.

"But you got up in front of hundreds of people when you were cheerleading."

"It's different," Santana insisted. Her heart began to pound at the thought. "I wasn't _singing_. Everyone's eyes could wander to the other cheerleaders and it was just no big deal, but this…everyone's eyes will be on me. I’m going to be the center of attention while doing something that no one knew that I could do before, and I just…can't deal with-"

"Okay, stop," he coaxed. "Breathe, jeez. You'll be fine. You'll be amazing. You know why? Because Brittany will be there, cheering you on. Fuck the haters."

Santana nodded. "You know," she said slowly. "I'm pretty sure Brittany was in the back of the auditorium today during my dance exam. It's the only thing that got me through that nightmare."

"Someone's in love," Puck cooed and batted his eyelashes.

"If you hadn't figured that out by now, there is no hope for your existence." Santana smiled and reached over to rub his shoulder. "Thank you. You've been the best friend a girl could ask for." She leaned up and kissed his cheek briefly.

"Lesbros for life."

“What even is that?”

“You know,” he said. “You’re the les-, I’m the –bro, so-”

Santana held up a finger. “Uh, no, no, no. I think you have that backwards-”

“Completely false statement.” Then, before she could argue, Puck decided to change the subject. “There's something I don’t understand.”

Puck turned into Brittany’s driveway; Santana could see that Brittany was just walking out of the garage.

“Like everything, right?” Santana joked.

“Haha, you funny fucker you.” Puck raised his hand, like he was going to back-hand her, but one look at Brittany’s crossed arms made him stop and grin coyly.

Santana laughed, suddenly wishing that they all could have been this close earlier in life; they would have made an unstoppable trio. “So what do you not understand?”

“Were you ever asked to be back on the Cheerios?”

“Oh, yeah." Santana reached in the back for her bag. "Coach Sylvester asked me, but I turned it down." Puck arched an eyebrow. "I kind of like being in control of how I dress every day. Plus, you know I was only into cheerleading to get away from the witch." Puck nodded.

"And now," he said slowly. He pointed to Brittany, who was waiting for Santana a few yards away. "You have a reason to stay home." Then, he clenched his fists in front of him and gyrated his hips in his seat. Santana lashed out with an open palm, landing a blow onto his right pec, and he hissed as his hand flew up to cradle his chest. "Ahhhh…my nipple."

Santana opened her door and stepped out. She slammed the door and hung in the open window wearing a grin. "Did you learn anything?"

Puck gritted his teeth. "Yeah, that you can't take a joke anymore. Whipped."

Santana turned and walked away, throwing, "Yeah look who's talking," and a certain finger over her shoulder.

Puck honked the horn and backed out of the driveway. Santana double-checked that Susan wasn't home before dropping her bag and running into Brittany's arms. Brittany picked her up and spun her.

"How was your dance exam?" Brittany asked, pecking her on the lips.

"Don't act like you don't know." Brittany grinned. "Why didn't you stick around afterwards and come backstage?"

Brittany took Santana's hand and led her into the house. "I told my teacher I needed to use the bathroom; believe it or not, if you're gone to the bathroom too long, no matter who you are, people begin to get suspicious."

They dropped their bags by the door and Brittany continued to lead Santana upstairs. "Yeah, but it would have been nice to have you there."

"I'm sorry, baby. I would have if I thought I wouldn't get lectured."

"I know." Santana squeezed Brittany's hand. "Where are we going?"

"Bedroom."

Santana smirked and latched onto their joined hands with her free one. "Oh really?" Brittany sped up and Santana hummed her approval.

Once inside their room, Brittany pulled Santana into her and kicked the door closed. Santana clung to the sides of Brittany's t-shirt and let Brittany ravish her neck and jaw.

"God, Brittany." Brittany slipped her hands under Santana's shirt and unhooked her bra. She snaked her hands around to Santana's front, slipped her hands under the now-loose garment, and palmed Santana's breasts. Santana's knees nearly gave out, but she held tight to Brittany. "What-"

"I talked to Ms. Pillsbury before I left school," Brittany mumbled into her collarbone. Santana opened her mouth to reply, but Brittany covered it with her own and darted her tongue out to rake over Santana's lips before she pulled away almost completely. She looked Santana in the eye. "You got an A."

Santana's eyes grew wide. "Wha…what?"

Brittany smiled and hopped a bit. "You passed, Santana! You got an A!"

"I got an A?" Santana asked, completely dumbfounded. Brittany nodded. "Oh my god, I'm going to graduate!"

Santana threw her arms around Brittany's neck and jumped up to wrap her legs around Brittany's waist. She pressed kisses all over Brittany's face, and her girlfriend laughed. When she was finished, she pulled Brittany's torso in tighter and hugged her. Brittany squeezed her back with equal fervor and slid her hands to cradle Santana's thighs to keep her from falling.

"I couldn't have done any of this without you," Santana whispered. She tangled her fingers in Brittany's hair. "Thank you so much."

Brittany shrugged. "It was all you, Santana. You-"

Santana shook her head and Brittany stopped. "I don't just mean the tutoring," she said. She stroked Brittany's scalp. "When I was up there…when I saw you…I closed my eyes, and it was like you were there. You were with me, holding me, guiding me…" Brittany smiled. "And I realized…you're always going to be with me, even when you're not there, you know?"

"Always," Brittany whispered. She drew Santana closer and crushed their lips together. She set Santana on the floor gently, only breaking contact to rip Santana's shirt and bra off. Then, she picked Santana up again, her hands running over the bare expanse of her back, and laid her down on the bed. She climbed on top of Santana and kissed up and down her neck. Her hands ghosted over Santana's ribs and breasts, rolling her nipples, squeezing tenderly, and Santana arched off the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Impatiently, she grabbed for Brittany's hands and settled them over the button of her jean shorts.

Brittany smiled against Santana's breast. She worked the button loose and slid her hands into Santana's underwear, stroking a finger over slick heat before pushing them down Santana's legs. Santana spread her legs, letting Brittany settle her hips between them.

Santana pulled at Brittany's shirt. "Too much clothing," she grunted. Brittany lifted her arms, but wouldn't let Santana pull off more than her shirt. Santana whined.

Brittany wrapped her fingers around Santana's wrists and held them above her head. "This is congratulatory sex," she whispered against Santana's lips. She brushed her nose over Santana's briefly. "It's all you."

"But I get pleasure from touching you." Brittany laughed at her, but released Santana's wrists and slid down her body, licked at each nipple, down Santana's belly, and finally stopped at the top of Santana's mound. She looked up; Santana was looking down at her with hooded eyes, her arms twitchy but still settled above her head.

Brittany bit her lip and ran a single digit the length of Santana's slit. Then, she slipped it in, making Santana arch and her eyes close. "More," she begged. Brittany licked her lips and wrapped them around Santana's clit, sucking in time with her thrusts. Santana cried out and, no longer able to keep her hands above her head, placed them atop Brittany's head. Brittany slipped in a second finger, and Santana's eyes flew open in surprise.

What she saw took her breath away, and not in a good way.

"Brittany!" She tangled one hand in Brittany's hair and yanked her away. Brittany looked up; Santana was trying to grab hold of anything to cover herself and looking over Brittany's head in horror. Brittany whipped around.

Susan was standing in the doorway, her face beet red and her jaw slack.

"Mom," she whispered. Susan held up a hand, and turned to walk away. "Shit." Brittany jumped from the bed and threw Santana her clothes. Then, she threw on her own shirt and fled after her mother.

Santana was in tears. They'd planned to tell Susan, just not like this. She was sure to be kicked out, and, worse, torn away from the only person she'd ever truly loved. Santana quickly slipped her clothes on and made her way downstairs.

Brittany and Susan were standing in the kitchen, and it was apparent that neither knew what to say. Santana sidled up and took Brittany's hand. It spurred Brittany on, and she said, "Please don't be angry."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tears were welling in Susan's eyes and Brittany and Santana both felt as though they'd been punch in the throat. "Why, Brittany?"

"I didn't think-"

"You're right, you didn't."

"I thought you'd be angry," Brittany said desperately. "And you are! Mom, please…don't take Santana away from me. I know how she treated me in the past, but I need her…I can’t live without her. I love her more than anything and…just please. Please don't send her away."

Brittany and Santana were both sobbing now. Susan pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit."

They did as they were told, clinging tightly to each other in the event that Susan tried to forcibly tear them apart.

"What has always been the number one rule in this house, Brittany?"

Brittany hung her head. "Always be honest."

"To?"

"To you and myself."

"You weren't honest with me," Susan said angrily, pacing the floor. "I'm okay with you two, you know? I'm completely fine, you know why? Because you're _happy_. But I'm not okay with being lied to, and I'm _definitely_ not okay with finding out this way!"

"We're sorry," Santana said. "We wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd send me away."

Susan sat across from them, but they could see that she was still tapping her feet, a nervous habit of hers. "Nothing would have changed. I would have continued to let you sleep together, because you're both adults. But the secrecy…I can't deal with that."

"I'm sorry," Brittany said pitifully. "Please don't make her leave." She slung her arm around Santana's shoulders and clung tighter to her.

Susan sighed and reached out her hands, silently asking for each of them to take one. "I'm not going to make Santana leave. I'm okay with this. You're happy. And that makes me happy. And on some level, I'll admit, I knew. But let's do away with the secrets, okay? Honesty all around, yeah?"

Brittany and Santana nodded, and Susan squeezed their hands. "We're sorry," Brittany said.

"Yeah," Santana agreed.

"And I'm sorry for yelling." Susan took her hands back and wiped her face. "I love you girls, you know?"

"We love you too," they said simultaneously.

"Mom," Brittany said, glancing sideways at Santana. "You know that I've been tutoring Santana in dance right? And she needed a B on her exam to pass?" Susan nodded. "Well her exam was today…she got an A."

Susan's eyes lit up and welled with a fresh batch of tears. "Santana," she breathed. She grabbed for Santana's hands.

Santana smiled. "I'm graduating," she whispered. It was finally sinking in. She was going to get out of stupid Lima, Ohio, she was going to take Brittany, and they were actually going to _do something_ with their lives _together_. "I'm going to graduate, and it's all because of your daughter." 

She looked at Brittany, wanting so badly to kiss her senseless right there. Susan let go of Santana's hands and said, "Oh, just do it," as if reading Santana's mind.

Santana and Brittany grinned, leaned forward, and their lips met halfway in a short, sweet kiss.

"You're adorable," Susan said, rising from her chair. "And I wish you the best of luck." She turned to leave, but abruptly turned back. "And next time you guys are doing… _that_ …please put a tie or a sock or-"

"Mom!"

Susan held up her hands and turned once again to leave.

Santana took Brittany's hand and kissed her knuckles, and, once Susan was out of the room, Brittany said, "I hate that the moment's gone."

Santana reached forward and touched Brittany's cheek. "Me too; that was going to be the best orgasm ever, I swear."

Brittany stood and pulled Santana up and into her. She held Santana's hips and kissed her forehead. "How about we go back to my room, pop in a movie, and see how it goes from there?"

Santana hummed and stood on tip toe to kiss Brittany. "That sounds perfect."

\-----

Santana held tightly to the curtain at her right, watching Rachel in awe. She'd written an original song for the talent show, and from her place offstage, Santana could see that half of the audience was in tears.

There was no way she had any kind of chance.

She'd been nervous all day, so much so that Brittany had had to force her to eat breakfast and lunch, but had not had as much luck with dinner. Whenever she thought about being in front of such a large crowd, her hands quaked and a wave of dizziness passed over her.

She let out a shaky breath and made to turn and flee all together, but a set of hands grabbed at her hips.

"You're late."

Brittany leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly. "Sorry," she whispered in her ear. "Traffic was hell, finding a parking space was impossible; this place is full to the brim." Santana whimpered. Brittany's hands slid from her hips to her stomach. "Sorry," she said, and kissed her once more. She pulled away and pried Santana's hands from the curtain.

"I can't do this." Santana wiped her palms on the front of her red dress. "I don't have a chance…let's just go home."

"You're going to be fantastic." Brittany nudged her shoulder. "And stop doing that, you'll ruin your dress."

Santana turned sharply, panic alight in her eyes. "I can't compete with her," she said frantically. " _Listen_ to her."

"Oh, please," Brittany said. "Have you ever even heard yourself sing? I love Rachel, really I do, but you're much better than her."

"You're my girlfriend," Santana whispered hastily. "You have to say that."

Brittany's face scrunched into a goofy smile. "That's a very false statement." Santana opened her mouth in agitation. "Look, if you really want to leave, I'll take you home right now and we'll forget this ever happened. But honestly, I think you'll be pretty disappointed that you missed this opportunity."

Santana huffed and turned back towards the stage. "There's a college scout out there somewhere."

Brittany rubbed Santana's biceps lovingly. "We don't know that for certain."

"Still, though."

"Puck and Quinn are out there," Brittany continued. "And so are Carl and my mom. And your dad, Manny, and Carmen."

"I understand the sentiment, but you're not making me feel any better."

"Do you want to leave?"

Santana was silent. Rachel was finishing up her song, and she needed to make her decision quick; she was next. The crowd cheered as Rachel hit the last few notes spot on. Santana trembled.

"No," she said quietly. "I promised you I'd do this, so…I'm doing it."

Brittany kissed the back of Santana's head, and let her mouth linger long enough to whisper, "That's my girl."

What Brittany didn't know, though, was that Santana had changed her song choice; she had intended on singing _Valerie_ because Amy Winehouse was, like, a goddess or something, and that's the song that Brittany had heard her practicing over and over again. But somewhere in the last two or three days, Santana had changed her mind, especially after remembering that she had told Brittany that she wanted to surprise her with something. So at almost the last minute, Santana had decided to sing _Songbird_ , hoping the love song would express to Brittany how much she loved her, how much she would always love her.

So yes, the crowd was making her all kinds of nervous, but the fact that she was singing a love song that she'd barely practiced to the love of her life?

 _Oh god_.

Rachel breezed towards them. Her face was wet with tears, but a huge smile graced her features. She grabbed at Santana's shoulders; her hands were shaking. "Oh my goodness, that was so…so…invigorating…so…"

"We get it, Rachel," Brittany laughed. "Go back and calm down."

"That's not a fair representation, though." Santana pouted as Rachel skipped away. "She does this all the time."

"She's also exaggerating," Brittany mumbled. "Have you seen the number of exclamation marks she puts after, like, everything? She's easily excitable." Santana's name was called, and Brittany patted her butt to move her forward. "Go get 'em, and remember that I love you."

Santana walked slowly, trying her best to will one foot in front of the other. A stagehand was setting up and adjusting a microphone to her height, and she swore she could feel her lunch coming back. She swallowed thickly and grabbed for the microphone stand. Her mind raced, having forgotten what she was told to do in dress rehearsal the previous day. Rachel had said a few words, gotten the crowd pumped up…was she supposed to do that too? She stared out, blinded by the stage lights. Did the music start automatically or did she have to signal that she was ready for it?

The mumbling of the crowd was deafening, and Santana could feel all of their eyes on her as they began to quiet down.

The silence was worse.

Suddenly the beginning chords of the music were ringing through the auditorium, and to her horror she realized that she'd forgotten the words. Her mind raced; her father was in the audience. Susan was in the audience. Her siblings, the kids that looked up to her, were in the audience. But the most disappointing thought: Brittany was just backstage, waiting for Santana to make her proud. How could she let Brittany down? She couldn't disappoint her…she had to make herself worth it. For Brittany.

Santana opened her mouth and the lyrics tumbled out.

_For you, there'll be no more cryin'  
For you, the sun will be shinin'  
And I feel that when I'm with you  
It's alright, I know its right_

She gained courage lyric by lyric, and she gripped the microphone stand hard.

_To you, I'll give the world  
To you, I'll never be cold_

She closed her eyes. Her nervous jitters disappeared, and just like during her exam, she tuned everything out but the music and Brittany.

_And I love you, I love you, I love you  
Like never before_

Santana smiled to herself; the best idea had just come to her. Instead of imagining Brittany with her, why not have the real Brittany by her side? What could be better than having the girl she was singing for right by her side? She'd probably get disqualified because the judges were lame, but so what? She'd promised she'd perform in the talent show. She didn't promise she'd win.

She looked towards the curtain where she'd left Brittany; Brittany was grinning brightly at her, but Santana could tell that she was a bit confused. Mike was with her, and gave her two thumbs up. She smiled at both of them, and crooked her finger at Brittany. Brittany's eyes widened, and she frowned and shook her head vehemently. Mike grinned down at her and nudged Brittany from behind the curtain. Brittany looked out over the crowd, then back to Santana who beckoned her forward again as she continued to sing. Nervously, Brittany walked slowly towards Santana, and Santana never took her eyes off of her girlfriend. When Brittany was within arm's reach, Santana's right hand left the microphone stand to tangle her fingers with Brittany's. Santana blindly plucked the microphone from the stand with her left hand so that she could better look at Brittany.

_And I wish you all the love in the world  
Bust most of all, I wish it from myself  
And the songbirds keep singing  
Like they know the score_

The song drew to a close. There was a moment of stunned silence, then the audience erupted. Everyone stood, clapping and whistling. Santana only sparred a glance past the stage lights. She drew Brittany in close to her side. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Brittany's cheek, catching the tear that fell from her girlfriend's eye.

Brittany's smile was watery. "You are amazing." Her words were drowned out, but Santana understood them perfectly. _I love you, too_.

The impatient stagehand ushered them off. Santana immediately threw her arms around Brittany's neck. "Oh my god, that was so cool!"

"I'm so proud of you," Brittany whispered, wiping her face.

Puck sidled up, his arm around Kurt's shoulders, followed closely by Rachel, who was dragging Quinn by the hand.

Rachel was the first to speak. "Oh my goodness, Santana, I didn't know that you could sing so…beautifully!" Santana blushed. Rachel tugged Quinn closer to them, and the latter raised her eyes and looked first to Brittany, then to Santana.

"You guys are adorable," she muttered, though the sincerity was evident.

Santana and Brittany gape at her, stunned, until finally Brittany managed to utter, "Thank you, Quinn."

"Eh, you're aiight," Puck said with a shrug.

"Shut up, asshole," Santana bit back, but smiled anyways.

They strolled further backstage so that they would be out of the way, and were met by Susan and Carl, who hugged both Santana and Brittany tightly, and finally by Ricardo, Manny, Carmen, and the most unexpected guest.

Santana's jaw dropped when she saw her, and she had to blink several times to convince herself that she was real.

"Mom?"

Maribel Lopez smiled sadly. She looked better than she had in the past eight years. She was sober, had gained a bit of weight, and had obviously showered and managed to pick out clean clothes. "Hello, Santana."

"What are you doing here?" Brittany placed a hand on her arm to placate her, but she honestly wasn't angry. She was caught off guard, and, yeah, seeing her mother opened still unhealed wounds…but angry? No. She couldn't find it in her to be angry; she had a great life now, and she actually had her mother to thank for that.

Maribel spread her hands helplessly. "I came to support my daughter." Santana glanced at Brittany. "Using the term 'girlfriend' will take some getting used to in relation to my daughter, but I'm willing to try."

Santana glanced at Ricardo, and he nodded. "Oh, well…thanks. I'm just…" She waved her hand around in the space between them vaguely. "I'm not ready to hug you yet…if that's okay."

Maribel dropped her hands disappointedly, but seemed to understand. "I'm proud of you, mija," she said. "So very proud."

Santana forced a smile, fighting back her tears. She couldn't ruin this happy occasion with sad tears.

She pulled Brittany to the side. "Did you know?"

Brittany shook her head and looked over Santana's shoulder; Carl and her mom seemed to really hit it off with Santana's parents. She took it as a good sign. "I had no idea he'd bring her."

There were two acts after Santana: a ventriloquist who was booed off of the stage and a magic act that fared well until the very end when the magician dropped his deck of cards and they scattered everywhere.

The contestants were called back to the stage (to her chagrin, Santana couldn't bring Brittany with her) so the winner could be announced.

"Our first annual talent show was a success, am I right?" Mr. Schue spoke into the microphone, and the crowd clapped and whistled. Before I announce the winners, I'd just like to take the time to thank everyone for coming out tonight and for any donations to our school that you may have made."

"Get on with it!" Santana bit back her laughter at the voice that sounded suspiciously like Puck's.

Mr. Schue cleared his throat. "Right." He opened the first folded piece of paper. "Well, it seems that our singing and dancing acts were the highlight of the show this year. Third place goes to…Mike Chang for his amazing dance!"

Mike grinned and danced forward for his applause.

Mr. Schue opened the next folded piece of paper. "Second place goes to Santana Lopez for singing Fleetwood Mac's _Songbird_!"

Santana's jaw dropped. She hadn't expected to get first, but she hadn't expected second or third either. The thunderous applause hit her ears and she stepped forward. She waved her thanks, and above all of the noise, one voice in particular stood out.

"I love you, Santana!"

Santana turned to look off stage. Brittany's fingers were in her mouth and she whistled. Then, she raised her hands over her head, clapped loudly, and yelled the phrase again.

Santana smiled and stepped back into her original place. No matter how hard she tried, however, she couldn't wipe the enormous smile from her face. Not only had she gotten over her crippling fear and performed, but she'd won second place _and_ her girl cheered for her louder than anyone else. 

The way Santana figured it, she had won.

"And now," Mr. Schue said. "The moment we've been waiting for." He slowly unfolded the third and last envelope. "The winner of this year's talent show is…Rachel Berry, who composed her own song, _Get It Right_!"

Rachel was so surprised that she had to be physically pushed forwards to claim her trophy. The crowd stood and tears fell from Rachel's eyes. Quinn rushed out and gathered Rachel into her arms into a tight embrace. Santana could see her whispering things to the shorter girl.

Mr. Schue leaned back to the microphone. "Well, it seems as though Ms. Berry is a bit speechless, so let's have one more round of applause for all of our contestants."

The contestant line dispersed, and Santana ran to Rachel. "Oh my god!" She pushed Quinn out of the way and threw her arms around Rachel's neck. "You were amazing! Congratulations!"

Rachel sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "Thank you, Santana." Then, she was nearly knocked to the ground by Brittany.

"You were so great!" Brittany squealed, and Rachel laughed. She was unable to free her arms enough to hug Brittany back, so she settled for patting Brittany's side awkwardly.

Brittany let go of Rachel, and Rachel walked off with Quinn to find her parents. Brittany took Santana's hand. "You are so amazing, you know that?"

Santana shrugged. "Ah, I had an idea, you know." She broke into a smile. "But I'd be nothing without you."

"Sap."

"You love me."

Santana led Brittany backstage; her adrenaline high was wearing off, and all she really wanted to do was go home and sleep all summer.

"Excuse me." The girls turned at the voice behind them. A man with close-cut hair was walking towards them; he was dressed informally, but still managed to exude importance. "My name is Jesse St. James. I'm a scout for The Florida Arts School."

Brittany and Santana looked at each other with wide eyes and squeezed each other's hand. "Oh, hi," Brittany said, turning back to the man. She reached out to shake his hand with her free right hand. "We heard rumors that a scout would be here, but we weren't sure of their validity."

Jesse smiled. "I assure you, there is more than one of us. I just wanted to be the first to talk to you," he said, addressing Santana.

Santana's jaw dropped, her stomach fluttering nervously. "Me?" She asked dumbly, and Brittany squeezed her hand again.

Jesse grinned. "Your voice is magic," he said with enthusiasm. He paused to raise his hands and wiggle his fingers for emphasis. He suddenly jerked his head to look at Brittany. He looked her up and down, then said, "Let me guess. Dancer?" Brittany's eyes darted to Santana, obviously uncomfortable with his stare, but nodded, and he seemed extremely pleased – but not entirely surprised – that his guess was right. He pulled out two business cards from his pocket and handed them over. "We'd be honored to have you at our school. I can tell it'd be hard to tear you two lovebirds – or should I say, _songbirds_ \- apart, so give me a call and we'll set something up, alright?"

They each thanked him profusely, and as he walked away, making a beeline for Mike, Santana said, "He came all the way from Florida…to this dumb little town."

"It must be a sign," Brittany mumbled, staring down at the business card in her hand.

"Well whatever it is, it's awesome," Santana said.

Brittany wound an arm around her waist. " _You're_ awesome."

Santana turned and wrapped her arms around Brittany. She leaned her head on Brittany's shoulder.

Later, they met up with Carl and Susan by their cars, parked parallel to each other. Susan hugged Santana so tightly that she couldn't breathe for a few agonizingly sweet moments. Carl's hug was shorter, but didn't lack in the sentiment. 

Brittany and Santana decided to keep the news about The Florida Arts School to themselves until something became concrete; there was a lot to discuss, now that they had each other. They had yet to discuss whether they'd attend the same school, whether they wanted to go far or stay close to home, or even what they wanted to go to school for.

Brittany was alarmed that Santana was so quiet and looked over briefly as she drove. Under the streetlights she could see the questions racing through Santana's mind. "We'll figure it out," she said. "The college stuff…we'll work it all out."

Santana reached blindly for Brittany's hand. "I wish you could have won with me."

Brittany brought Santana's hand to her lips and kissed it. "I did. I have you. I'd say I came out better than anyone."

Santana smiled. They'd been through a lot together, and as much as Santana wished she could change their colorful past, somehow she didn't think that they'd be where they were if something had been done differently. They had a lot of work ahead of them; they were far from the perfect couple, and they had the most dysfunctional friends and families anyone could ask for. But it was enough for her.

She was never happier than when she was with Brittany. And maybe, just maybe, that made all of their past pain worth it.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, an old homophobic lady, Brittany is a brat but only because she knows she's cute, mentions of death, wedding fluff, and sappiness.

"Sing to me."

"…what?"

"Sing to me."

Santana let out a puff of air. "Seriously?" Brittany nodded and gripped the bed sheets harder. "Brittany, my fingers are inside of you and we're already late." She twisted her fingers for emphasis and bumped Brittany's clit, hoping Brittany would lose her train of thought. Brittany cried out and threw her head back. Then, she shuddered and slumped against Santana. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist, stroked her back, and lifted her head to pepper kisses over Brittany's neck and face.

"That didn't mean that you couldn't sing to me." Brittany lifted her head, and Santana smiled at the pout on her face.

"We're late," she reminded Brittany for the tenth time.

"That didn't stop you from plunging your fingers in me." Brittany smirked.

Santana pressed a kiss to Brittany's lips and nudged the blankets off of them. "I will remind you that you are the one on top of me."

Brittany rolled off of Santana and sat up. "So I was enthusiastic." She shrugged. "I mean, have you seen you?"

Santana scrunched her face and nodded. Then, she stood and ran her hands over her own body before tangling them in her hair. "Oh, yeah," she whispered. "I am hot, huh?"

Brittany licked her lips. She rounded the bed and pulled Santana in by her hips so their naked bodies were flush. She wrapped one arm around the small of Santana's back and used her free hand to brush the hair from Santana's face. "Yeah," she breathed. "You are." Santana smirked and ghosted her fingers over Brittany's collar bone. "Fuck."

Brittany hoisted Santana off of her feet and Santana wrapped her legs around Brittany's waist. Brittany slammed her against the nearest wall and sank her teeth into Santana's pulse point. Santana's strangled cry rang in Brittany's ear, and she laved her tongue slowly over the deep teeth marks. Then she pulled back.

"You're so sexy," Santana rasped. Red began to creep into Brittany's ears, and Santana chuckled. They'd been together – officially – for nearly five months, but Brittany wasn't quite used to Santana using the terms sexy, beautiful, or gorgeous to define her. "Oh, now you're going to get shy on me?"

Brittany pushed Santana's hair back and laid a gentle kiss on the bite mark she'd left. It throbbed painfully, and Santana hissed. "Problem?"

"That was a bad idea."

Brittany hummed in her ear. "One day you'll learn. Don't tease me."

"No," Santana said. "I mean the mark that's going to leave. My dress won't cover that up." Brittany paused, eyes wide. "Speaking of which…"

Brittany glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "Shit, we're late!"

She dropped Santana to the floor, nearly sending her onto her backside. "I told you!"

"No, I mean we're really late!" Brittany grabbed their dresses from the hook on the back of her door and hastily handed Santana hers. "We were supposed to be there an hour ago!"

"But it doesn't start for another hour." Santana threw her clothes on; they'd change into their dresses later so they wouldn't ruin them.

"The wedding planner put this idea in mom's head that if everyone involved isn't there two hours early, everything will go wrong."

Brittany rushed Santana out and down the stairs. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Brittany took her cell phone from its place beside her keys. "Thirteen missed calls from mom, eight from Carl. Fuck."

Santana trudged to the entertainment room and picked her phone up from the table. "Ten from Susan, four from Carl," she called.

"Fuck!"

Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and dashed outside. The August air was stifling, and Santana cursed Susan and Carl's decision to have an outdoor wedding. She hoped the breeze from the lake would make the ordeal a bit more bearable, but honestly she was having her doubts.

But really, she was just happy that Brittany was finally okay with the impending wedding. She was poised to be Susan's maid of honor, and Santana had been thrilled to accept the position of what Susan liked to call 'co-maid of honor'.

"You girls are going to be going away to college a month after the wedding," Susan had said as they had their dresses fitted. "And how often do you get a chance to do this? I just want everyone to come out happy."

(Brittany and Santana had exchanged smirks at the phrase 'come out' which hadn't gone unnoticed by an exasperated Susan.)

Santana carefully laid out her dress in the backseat and helped Brittany lay her own on top of it. Then, they climbed into the front and peeled out towards the lake.

"I can't wait to see Allie." Santana bounced in her seat.

"I know, right? I always miss that kid like crazy."

"She's going to be the best flower girl," Santana said, smiling at the thought.

Brittany nodded and turned onto the gravel road that wound through the forest of trees and to the lake. Once they were parked, they jumped out, grabbed their dresses, and bolted for the hut that was being used for Susan and all of the females involved to get ready.

"Where have you been?" Susan whipped around so fast that her veil fell off her head. "You were supposed to be here an hour and a half ago!"

Santana shrank away and blended into everyone else who was milling around, but managed to catch the beginnings of the 'my wedding is more important than your sex life' lecture.

She secured a small room for herself and Brittany – when she managed to escape – and tugged off her shoes and jeans. The summer months had passed in a blur of sleep, college applications, and April's pool (okay, and sex, but whatever). After many long discussions, Brittany and Santana had finally decided to apply to USC for the Spring semester (the Thornton School of Music for Santana, and Brittany was still undecided, but was checking deeply into the Rossier School of Education), a far cry from the school in Florida that was offering them both scholarships.

Living arrangements had been placed on the back burner, but they knew they wanted to live together, even if it meant driving or walking out of their way for classes. It needed to be decided quick, Santana thought, because packing time was approaching quickly.

The door burst open and Brittany tumbled in, obviously in a hurry to miss another lecture. "You left me," she panted. "I was trapped and you just left me. God help me when the zombies walk the Earth."

Santana laughed and threw a shoe at Brittany. "Don't be so dramatic." She pulled her dress on and sat to put her heels on her feet. "So, how many of those nice old ladies know that we're having sex?"

Brittany's cheeks tinged again. She cleared her throat and muttered, "All of them."

"Nice."

Brittany groaned. "My grandmother is out there."

Santana stood and walked over to help Brittany pull on her dress. Then, she kissed her cheek affectionately. "Just think," she whispered. "That saves you the trouble of telling them."

Brittany scowled. "Shut up." She reached into Santana's makeup bag and pulled out her foundation. She put a dab on her finger and began to dot it along the spots where the hickey was beginning to form on Santana's neck.

Once Brittany was finished, Santana kissed her again and patted her butt. "Saddle up, baby. We got a wedding to attend."

\-----

Santana peeped around the door just as Carl and his best man were taking their place at the altar. Even from a distance she could see Carl's hands quivering uncontrollably. He looked forward and caught her eye; Santana drew her hand upwards, silently telling him to breathe. He rolled his eyes, but pasted his charmingly devilish smirk on and nodded. The priest walked in behind them.

April lagged behind until the last possible minute to make sure that Allie's dress was as neat as it could be, then she took the last groomsman's arm and they marched down the aisle.

Brittany smiled at Santana and bent her arm. Santana looped hers through and they walked together. Many people, especially those on Carl's side, stared, obviously confused, but Santana didn't worry with them. They didn't understand, and that was perfectly okay, because she probably wouldn't see any of these people ever again. 

Looking over, she saw her parents and her siblings. Maribel waved and dabbed her eye with a tissue. Santana and Maribel had been on good terms since her mother had joined a support group to help her get sober, but when her mother had asked her to come home, Santana had smiled and replied "I am home, mom." To her shock, Maribel had only nodded and wished her well. 

She and Brittany took their places beside April, but continued to hold hands.

The ring bearer, Carl's young nephew, came next, followed by Allie, who obviously didn't care what anyone thought as she twirled about, tossing flower petals and soaking up the laughs and coos from both sides. April dropped her crimson face into her free hand and laughed.

The wedding march began; everyone got quiet and stood. Susan, dressed in a beautiful white gown, came in, led by Jeremy. Susan was glowing, as any bride deserved to be, and the smile on Carl's face was blinding. Beside her, Santana heard Brittany swallow thickly and Santana pulled her closer. On her other side, April bounced excitedly.

Jeremy walked Susan to the altar, turned to give her a hug, and then sat in the front row between Susan's parents and the group of Puck, Kurt, Rachel, and, oddly enough, Quinn. Susan grinned at her bridesmaids and maids of honor before turning to Carl. He took her hand and they turned to face the priest and he began to speak.

"We gather here today to join together two souls – Susan Anne Pierce and Carl Phillip Howell – in holy matrimony. It is a great time in your young lives that you will forever remember, and we are all blessed to accompany you in your joy."

The priest paused for a moment. Brittany sniffled and Santana stroked the side of her hand with her thumb.

"Marriage is a bond to be entered into only after considerable thought and reflection. As with any aspect of life, it has its cycles, its ups and its downs, its trials and its triumphs. With full understanding of this, Susan and Carl have come here today to be joined as one in marriage. Now, if you two will please face each other and join hands."

Carl and Susan faced each other and smiled. He held out his free hand to take hers.

"Susan," the priest said. "Do you have something you wish to say to Carl before we begin?"

Susan nodded, and Santana knew her well enough to know that she was already crying.

"My first husband died almost five years ago," Susan began tearfully, and Brittany stiffened. "Cancer took him from us much, much too early. I was depressed, going nowhere with my life. All I had were my daughters, and while it should have been enough, it wasn't." Susan paused, her tears momentarily hindering her speech. "There was a hole…a hole that could only be filled with a certain kind of love. And then you transferred to the medical center and…you swept me off of my feet." Carl smiled and blinked back tears. "You made me happy when no one else could. And I know there has been some opposition-" Susan glanced over her shoulder at Brittany.

Brittany scoffed. "Whatever," she mumbled. Santana elbowed her, and giggles rang out over the crowd. 

Susan shook her head fondly at her daughter and Santana, then continued, "-but it's behind us. We're the perfect team, the dream duo, and I wouldn't have my life any other way if it meant that I wouldn't be standing here with you."

Sniffles sounded from the guests and Brittany gagged. Santana hip bumped her, but April reached behind Santana and slapped the back of Brittany's head. Santana gave Brittany a stern look before she could fight back and Brittany slumped in defeat. Santana smiled. _Whipped_.

"That was beautiful Susan." The priest allowed Susan a moment to compose herself. Then, he addressed Carl. "Carl, do you have something that you wish to say to Susan before we begin?"

Carl nodded once and tightened his grip on Susan's hands. "My long-time girlfriend left me," he began. "I was going to propose and she ended it; took the dog, the house, the car…luckily I'm a dentist, so I bounced back just fine." Everyone laughed and he grinned lightheartedly at Susan. "I was on the verge of a breakdown, and when I was asked to transfer hospitals I was sure it would be the end of me. Everything was changing so quickly, I felt like I could barely get in a breath before I was being pulled and jerked around once again. But then the best change of all…I met you. And my life hasn't been the same since. When I'm with you, just being is easier than it ever was. If I could change one thing, it would simply be that I wish that I'd met you sooner."

"She was married," Brittany muttered, and Santana stepped on her foot.

The priest smiled. "Lovely," he said. "At this time, I would like to ask with whom does Susan come, and whose blessings accompany her?"

"Mine," Brittany and April said together, then to reiterate, they said, "Ours."

The priest nodded. "Carl, do you take this woman, Susan Anne, to be your lawfully wedded wife, and do you promise to love, honor, respect her, and comfort her, and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her for so long as you both shall live?"

Carl smiled. "I do."

"And do you, Susan, take this man, Carl Phillip, to be your lawfully wedded husband, and do you promise to love, honor and respect him, and comfort him, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him for so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"If there are any here that oppose the joining of these two souls, let him speak now or forever hold his piece." When all was silent, he continued. "Very good. Your wedding rings are symbolic of your commitment to each other and your endless love for each other. Who has the rings?"

Carl's nephew, who had been seconds from drifting into sleep, jumped and rushed to Carl's side. Carl took the smaller band with still shaking hands and placed it on Susan's finger. Then, the boy extended his arms to Susan, and she took the remaining band and slid it onto Carl's finger.

"Before God and all of your family and friends, I am honored to pronounce you, Carl Phillip Howell and Susan Anne Pierce, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

The congregation erupted into thunderous applause as Carl and Susan leaned in and kissed.

Santana clapped along, and Brittany slipped an arm around her. She looked up at Brittany, and Brittany kissed her temple.

Susan and Carl hurried off down the aisle, leaving the crowd behind to start their honeymoon.

\-----

Carl and Susan wanted to head to their honeymoon in Puerto Rico as soon as possible, so it had been decided that the reception would be held when they returned; it was a bit unconventional, but no one seemed to have any complaints. The guests were beginning to leave so the crowd was thinning out considerably. Santana and Brittany never left each other's side.

"So, what are your plans for college, Brittany?" Carl's aunt (a very obvious, strict conservative) had stopped them to make small talk. Santana had had a hard time getting past her amazement that the woman didn't drown when it rained; if she held her nose any higher, Santana was sure she'd pinch a nerve in her neck.

"Santana and I are going to USC," Brittany said.

The woman turned to Santana briefly, judging her. "And what about your…living arrangements? I have a son just about your age, you know, I'm sure he'd be happy to host you while you were in school."

The insinuation only angered Santana further, and she pulled Brittany closer and threw her arm around Brittany's waist. The older woman pursed her lips and gave Santana another once over.

"Ah," Brittany said slowly. "Thank you for the offer, Helen, but Santana and I are going to get a place together."

"Well, don't you think you're moving a little fast, dear? I mean, April and that lovely man she married didn't move in together until they were married…heterosexually, of course."

"Yeah, well I'm not April, so." Brittany shrugged.

"How your mother allows this behavior into her home, I haven't the foggiest."

"I love Santana," Brittany said simply. "And I don't need the approval of someone that I'll never see again in my life, so if you'll excuse us."

Before anything else could be said to piss her off, Santana pulled Brittany away, getting them lost in the sea of people.

"This fucking sucks," she fumed, and Brittany pulled her backwards to encircle her waist with her arms.

"They're from a different generation, Santana," she cooed. "They'll never understand what we have."

"I wanted to say something, but-"

"Shh," Brittany hushed. "You didn't need to say a thing. Truthfully, I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but hey…I love you. And everyone should know it."

"You're too good to me, you know?"

Brittany began to walk them towards their friends, who were hovering near the small refreshment table. "That'll never be possible," she said.

"Hey," Puck leered, and Santana punched him in the stomach.

"We were just talking about how you got caught by the homo police," Kurt chimed in.

"Mm, we want to hear all about that," Quinn said and sipped her punch.

"Aunty Helen decided to try to not-so-subtly set up my girlfriend with her son," Santana fumed. She leaned over to Puck and whispered, "We're egging her house tonight."

Brittany nudged Santana in the ribs. "Don’t let it get to you. I picked you, didn't I?"

"How come you're never that sweet?" Kurt asked Puck. His smile gave way to the fact that he wasn't serious at all, but Puck's face turned scarlet anyway.

"Guys," Quinn said. "Do you realize that we'll all finally be out of this town soon?"

"Just like we always wanted," Brittany said, and Santana kissed her shoulder.

"I propose a group hug," Rachel exclaimed.

"If we did that, it would make it look like I like all of you," Puck said. "I don't want to give these people the wrong impression of the Puckster."

"They got the wrong impression when they looked at you, gay-mo," Santana said.

Puck flipped her the bird, then said, "Ah, c'mere, homos." He held out his arms.

"Why is everything a gay joke suddenly?" Kurt asked, but joined what was turning into a very large group hug.

"Homo police," Brittany reminded him. She wrapped one arm around Santana and the other around Rachel.

With their circle as tight as it could be, they all leaned their heads together and closed their eyes, each marveling at how well they all fit together perfectly.

"Promise we'll all be friends?" Rachel asked. "No matter what. Promise we'll all come back to each other."

"Promise."

They all pulled away, but kept their arms linked. "You know, nothing has to change," Kurt said. "There are plenty of people who are friends over a long distance. And you know what? I think it'll be easier since we're in couples…there will only be three lines of communication."

"I just can't believe we're officially adults." Puck huffed. "That means we have to start acting like adults."

Everyone laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement. None of them had much luck with acting their age for extended periods of time, and they knew that going to college wouldn't change that.

Finally, after many stares from what was left of the wedding guests, the group broke apart. They said their goodbyes and the couples went their separate ways.

The sun was setting; Brittany put her arm around Santana's bare shoulders, shielding her from the wind, and Santana wrapped both arms around Brittany's waist.

"It's exciting," Santana said. "We're going to college and finally starting our lives together."

"I know." Brittany pulled her keys from her clutch bag and unlocked Santana's door. "And you know what? I'm glad I'm doing it with you."

"You are?" Brittany nodded, and Santana stood on her tip toes to kiss her. "I'm glad you were my tutor."

"Can you believe we started like that?" Brittany rubbed Santana's arms. "You hated me, I hated you. We danced, and boom…love."

"It was always love," Santana whispered. "We just needed a little…help. I never thought I'd say I'm grateful for dance." Santana opened her door and climbed in, then waited for Brittany to get behind the wheel. "I expect my wedding dance when we get home. I can't wait two weeks."

Brittany leaned over the console and kissed Santana deeply. "You can have whatever you want."

Santana smiled and kissed Brittany one more time. "Let's go home."


End file.
